


Smoke and Mirrors

by Fififjonka



Category: Game of Thrones (TV)
Genre: F/M, Gen
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2014-01-15
Updated: 2017-05-12
Packaged: 2018-01-08 21:06:34
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Rape/Non-Con
Chapters: 77
Words: 79,374
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1137400
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Fififjonka/pseuds/Fififjonka
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Arya finally says the words. Valar Morghulis. But what happens afterwards is not quite as she imagined. Longing for revenge, she goes where nothing is certain or safe, with a guardian whose motives are shady and who doesn't like sharing his secrets. Under his training she becomes deadlier than ever before. There are still many names on her lips. Joffrey, Cersei, Tywin and all the others will see their deaths in her eyes, soon. And along the way, she sorts her feelings towards her guardian, who - despite his efforts - can't hide his secrets forever. R&R, please.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Dungeon

**Author's Note:**

  * Translation into Русский available: [Дым и Зеркала (Smoke and mirrors)](https://archiveofourown.org/works/2264307) by [Nimeria](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Nimeria/pseuds/Nimeria)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Part I - The Wolf Cub and The Phantom

**  
  
**

_Valar Morghulis... All men must die. They all must die for what they did. To her. To the people she loved. She wants them dead. And she will make sure they all die. One by one and by her hand..._

_"Valar Morghulis..."_

The silent whisper was almost inaudible in the darkness and solitude. Arya moved and hissed with throbbing pain. It was like a knife in her temples. She opened her eyes but saw only darkness. Where was she?

Arya couldn't remember. She was laying on a stone floor, the stones were wet and cold. And rectangular, so it wasn't a cave. More like a cell. And despite her frantic blinking, her surroundings stayed in pitch black. Was she blind?

"Oh no, not blind..." she whispered with fear. She curled into a ball, wrapping her arms around her knees, listening to her heart beating. Calm down, she must calm down. Maybe this was a dream. No, something was telling her it was real. How did she get there? What was the last thing she could remember?

The Hound. Yes, she was with him. He kept her a prisoner. She killed a man and the Hound stared at her. She held a silver coin in her hand.

_"Valar Morghulis," she murmurs once again. But nothing happens. She stands there, covered in blood, and nothing happens. Then the Hound grabs her, dragging her away. She doesn't fight back. Storm is upon them, bending the trees down._

_"Who the hell are you?!" the Hound shouts and pushes her on side. Three men in dark cloaks fight the Hound until one of them asks him a question._

_"Did you speak the words?"_

_The Hound mocks him and spits on him. They turn over and look at her. There is nothing in their hoods but black holes. She feels her heart racing._

_"She did," they say. She runs through the woods, breathless and terrified. They are definitely not human. And Jaqen was a liar. A traitor._

_"You can't escape!"_

_Finally, she falls. They are above her. One of them takes the coin from her hand and she winces with the coldness of his skin._

_"Let me go!" she manages to yell._

_"Once you said the words, there is no going back..." they say. She screams and everything whirls in blurred stains and buzzing sounds, like a giant swarm of hornets. And she's falling, her mind drifting away. She sees faces. Her mother and brothers, Sansa and her father. Then it hazes and she hears swords clashing, splashing blood and cry and laments. Different faces emerge in front of her. Joffrey... Cersei... Tywin Lannister... the Hound... Polliver..._

_They keep her company. Joffrey's high-pitched voice ordering her father's death. Cersei's cold, ruthless stare. Tywin's schemes to destroy Starks. The Hound bringing Mycah's corpse. Robb's body with Grey Wind's head sewed instead of his own..._

_When she wakes up from her dreams, she hears flies buzzing around. She smells a horse beneath, listens to its shoes clapping. She feels the sun burning her skin. Sand scratching her neck. How come it's so hot? Like a desert..._ _There's a sack on her head and a gag in her mouth. When she opens her eyes, she sees only bright yellow light. People talk around but she doesn't understand. Where are they travelling to?_

_The sound of horseshoes clapping changes. They arrive to a city. Foreign language flows through its streets. It sounds weird to her ears. They take her down and force her to walk. The sun disappears as they go lower and lower. The air is getting colder and she can't stop shivering. She knows this smell. It's a dungeon. A prison?_

_They cut the ties on her wrists and somebody's hand pushes her. She slips, sliding on the wet stones. Air whooshes around her head and she keeps rolling deeper into the tomb until she stops on the very bottom, hitting her head against the wall._

_And there she wakes up._

Arya was staring into the darkness. It could have been the weirdest dream. Except it was real. And that time, reality was far worse than the most horrible nightmare. She had absolutely no idea where she was or what was happening. She couldn't see as there was darkness all around. She was so deep in the dungeons - considering the long fall - she could almost sense the weight of hundreds of stones above her. And she was completely alone.

She crawled a few metres, touching the ascending wall. The slope was too steep, it was impossible to climb up. She tried screaming and shouting into the nothingness but only the echo of her own voice kept returning. She stopped with that soon. The cell fell back into utter silence. Arya laid down on the stones, exhausted. She felt like never getting up again. If only she would wake up back at Winterfell...

Arya froze all of the sudden. Something moved behind her. Silent, shuffling sound. Like a slithering snake.

"Who's there?!" she said, keeping her voice from trembling. She had no weapon to fight. With anxiety, she pressed herself against the stone floor. Was it an animal? She hated the idea it could attack her any second and she wouldn't see it nor hear it.

"Hey! Who is that?!"

"You don't know?" a deep voice spoke from the cold darkness, making Arya hold her breath and clench her fists.

"A girl has a very poor memory... A man thought it was better..."

* * *

_OK, the first chap is done, hope you like and let me know what you think :-)_


	2. Questions in the Dark

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Part I - The Wolf Cub and The Phantom

 

Arya was sitting in the cold and dark cell, not moving, not speaking. Water was tapping somewhere, being the only sound she could hear.

"Does a girl have nothing to say?" he spoke again. His unusual smooth voice resonated in the indefinite space of the prison.

"Jaqen?"

"So a girl remembers after all," he said with satisfaction. Arya shook her head. It just didn't make any sense.

"Where are we?"

"In a cell. It's quite evident."

"But where?"

"In a land of sand and heat and flies and drought, far away."

"What am I doing here?" she demanded. She had absolutely no interest in being in such a land.

"You said the words and held the coin."

"I did," she agreed. "But I thought it'd bring you to me, so you could help me. While it brought me into a stinky dungeon and made me a prisoner... It's a pretty stupid coin, you know."

Slowly, Arya was getting angry. Was this Jaqen's magical gift? Imprisonment in a sleazy cell in an unknown land? Staying with the Hound looked like a better option.

"There were certain... circumstances."

"Circumstances? You better deal with them now, I can't lose my time locked in here," Arya said. "Get me out."

Jaqen took some time before speaking again and she could almost see an amused smile spreading on his lips.

"I am also a prisoner, lovely girl."

"Again?" Arya breathed out. Unbelievable. "But you must get us out."

"That is more difficult than you think. This prison is not constructed for an easy escape."

"And what prison is?" Arya remarked. "I don't care anyway. I'm here because of you. You must get me out,  _now._ "

"Even if I did that, a girl is too far from her homeland."

"How?" Arya managed to say. "How is that possible?"

"There were three man, right?" Jaqen said, calmly as she remembered he used to speak. "They are called the Ruthraya and rule over my order. They can bring the one who uses the coin - and says the right words - to the man who owned the coin previously."

"So they brought me to you? But why am I locked here? I have nothing to do with why  _you're_  locked here."

"A girl cannot know that," Jaqen said in a by-the-way manner and continued: "And a man did something the Ruthraya condemn and punish. They also punish all those trying to use a man's coin. It could be an ally."

Arya frowned.

"So I'm here only because you did something you shouldn't? Tell them to take me back."

"The Ruthraya won't listen."

"Then do something else to get me out. It's not my fault you can't control yourself."

"You are angry, I hear," Jaqen said, his voice remaining collected, but still quite amused. Why did Arya had the feeling there was nothing Jaqen would take seriously?

"You bet I am!" she shouted, frustrated. "Don't you know what happened? They killed my mother and brother!"

Arya was panting as the terrible feeling of hate took over her mind once again. She closed her eyes, fighting against the cry and tears.

"I must avenge them. And now I'm locked in a dungeon, thousand miles from the rest of my family, alone and in darkness..."

She didn't want to cry or whine. She was still alive so there was still some hope.

"Is there any way how to get out?" she asked then, when she calmed down. She waited but no answer would come.

"Do you hear me?"

Still no answer. Did he disappear or what?

"Jaqen?"

The sound of tapping water was again the only thing she could hear. Arya crawled on the wet stones in the direction she heard Jaqen's voice coming from.

"Jaqen, are you here?"

Inch by inch she kept moving, pushing her fear away.

"Jaqen..."

She stopped when her fingers touched a hand. She withdrew reflexively.

"Is a girl scared?" Jaqen said, his enigmatic voice so close she could feel the air moving as he spoke.

"No," she said quickly. "I'm not. Why should I be?"

Arya hesitated, reaching her arm slowly. There were shackles on his wrists, with chains. She followed the chains with her hand, realizing they were embedded in the wall Jaqen was evidently leaning against.

"Why are you chained?" she asked. Jaqen chuckled bitterly.

"A stupid question," he said. "Don't you know what chains are for?"

Arya made a face at him, unseen in the darkness.

"So... what did you do?"

"That is a story for another time," he said. His tone changed. There was no amusement in it any more. Arya too fell silent. She leaned against the wall next to Jaqen, putting her head on her knees. Closing her eyes, she took a deep breath of the freezing air. She wanted to repeat her death prayer, but somehow, it didn't work this time.

"A girl should sleep, the journey was tiring," Jaqen said, disturbing her thoughts.

"Maybe," she uttered in a grim tone. "I guess there's plenty of time for that."

"I wouldn't think so," Jaqen replied and Arya raised an eyebrow.

"Why?"

"Because," Jaqen said and once again a smile could be felt on his lips, "I am to be executed in three days."

* * *

_Second chap, tell me what you think. Thanks and hope you enjoyed :-)_


	3. Three Rules

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Part I - The Wolf Cub and The Phantom

_The stare of a red eyed wolf's head kept burning her mind. It followed her every move, counted her every breath. It_ _chased her. The eyes always open. The mutilated body of her brother was twitching, raising arms, trying to catch her._

_"King of the North! King of the North!"_

Arya woke up panting. For a second or two she could still hear the shouting people.

"A girl had a nightmare?"

Arya rubbed her eyes. She evidently was still in the prison. Like  _that_  couldn't have been a dream. She sat up and leaned against the wall.

"I can't stand the dark," she muttered. "What if I go blind?"

"A man is here for twenty four days and is not blind."

Arya looked where she supposed Jaqen had been sitting. Close enough she could hear his robes shifting when he moved.

"What did you do?" she asked again.

"I broke the rules."

"What rules?"

"Of my order. There are three rules. Breaking them means punishment. And punishment is death."

"You must be a lousy assassin if you can't observe three rules," Arya remarked sarcastically. "What are they?"

Jaqen was hesitating to speak, until she repeated her question once more.

"First - never reveal the secrets of the order. Second - never break a deal. Third - never betray another member."

"Which one did  _you_  break?"

"The second."

"You broke a deal? With whom? About what?"

"Not now," Jaqen said quite coldly. But Arya knew he was an assassin capable of killing many effortlessly. Her heart was telling her he was far more dangerous than majority of the assassins she had met. He must have done something really bad he ended here.

"A girl asks many questions," Jaqen said, restoring the usual calmness. "Maybe it's time for a man to ask. Why did you use my coin?"

"I wanted you to teach me everything so I could kill all the murderers who slew my family," Arya said with a firm tone.

"So a girl thinks she is ready?"

"I have nothing to lose now," Arya said. She heard him snort softly.

"There's always something to lose," he disagreed in a low-pitched tone that sent shivers down Arya's spine.

"What about the things that make you the person you are?"

"I can't lose that," she objected.

"You can, lovely girl. And most probably will have to. If you want to learn and succeed."

Arya had a good idea where he was leading her to. Would she give up such a big part of herself for revenge?

"I don't know why you ask. You won't teach me anything. You're locked here. And they want to execute you."

"I've almost forgotten," Jaqen said casually. "In that case, a man must get out."

"What about me?"

"They'll ask you questions," Jaqen said. "About me. Then they either will or won't let you go. My guess would be they won't. If you want to escape, there will be one and only chance. After they come for you, do as I say."

"All right..." Arya said and a smirk appeared on her lips. "This is the second time I'm helping you out. Can't you be more independent?"

"How witty," Jaqen uttered ironically. "The guard has a knife by his hip. When he comes, I will speak to him. Take the knife and leave it here."

"What for?"

"To unlock my shackles."

"I hope you have a good escape plan," Arya remarked. "I can't die now."

Jaqen laughed briefly.

"A girl who knows what she wants," he said and somehow, Arya felt flattered.

"Tell me one thing," she said then. "If I didn't come, would you manage to get out of this tomb? You were either very lucky," she paused for a while, "or you knew I'd come."

"A girl is smart," Jaqen said. "And a girl is right. A man wouldn't put himself in danger for nothing."

"But what was the deal you broke? Who -"

Arya stopped. She heard something from above.

"They are coming," Jaqen said. "Don't fight. Answer truthfully. Don't be afraid."

"I am not," she said stubbornly. But she was lying.

"Of course," Jaqen admitted smoothly. Loud shuffling noises kept approaching, like moving pieces of wall. Suddenly, a ball of light appeared, making Arya narrow her eyes. A man was speaking but she didn't understand. Her heart was racing with fear.

"Jaqen," she called his name quietly, not sure what she actually wanted to say.

"A girl is brave," Jaqen said silently. "A girl trusts a man."

"Yes..." she whispered, watching the guard walking towards her. He held a torch and was wearing long, beige robes with armour on shoulders and chest. She glanced at his hip, noticing a small knife.

"Almadis tsi wahya," she heard Jaqen speak. The guard froze like that was an insult, turning after his voice.

"Onlahte," the guard spat out with anger. Arya slipped her arm under his. As he wanted to turn back, Jaqen stopped him again.

"Nahan chaafi," he said in a mocking tone, infuriating the guard even more. He made a few steps closer to Jaqen, allowing Arya to bow and put the knife quietly on the floor. She was standing just two or three feet away from Jaqen, hoping the chains on his arms were long enough for him to reach for it.

"Bizaad ohsa," the guard said angrily. He grabbed Arya's arm, taking her away to a small platform. They stepped on it and it started moving up the sloping wall. Arya breathed in nervously. Although she didn't like admitting it, she was afraid. With Jaqen locked here, she had no one to protect her. She had to trust him and his escape plan. Because if it didn't work, she was lost.


	4. Break Out

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Part I - The Wolf Cub and The Phantom

"What is your name?"

"Arry."

"Where did you get the coin?"

"It was a gift..."

"From whom?"

"From... a man."

Arya was in a dark hall. There were seven people, all sitting by a long table, three of them cloaked. The Ruthraya, Arya guessed. But they didn't speak. A woman was asking her. She was tall and slender, with eagle-like black eyes and short black hair. Her voice was like steel. She was translating for a bald man in red robes. Then there were two more dark-haired men in armour. Arya was standing in front of the table with the guard still by her side. There were no civilians present.

"Do you know his name?" the woman asked.

"No, actually..."

"How did he introduce himself?"

"He didn't," Arya lied, trying to sound convincing.

"Do you think we won't do you harm because you are a child?" the woman asked, raising an eyebrow, watching her like an animal its pray.

"We know who gave you the coin," the woman continued. "A man under the name Jaqen H'ghar. The same man you met in the dungeons. He betrayed his order because of you. He broke a deal he swore to keep. He killed a member of his order. He gave the precious coin to a child and endangered the whole order. He's going to die soon and if we are to spare  _you_  depends entirely on you."

The woman paused for a second or two.

"So,  _Arry_ , now it's time for the truth. Tell me who you really are and what was your deal with this man?"

But Arya stayed silent. The woman gave her another long look, making her feel like she could see right through her. With a barely noticeable move by her eyes she gave a signal to the guard. The next moment Arya found herself on the floor with throbbing pain in her head and blood on her lips.

"Shall he punch you again? Or you will you speak?"

Arya kept her mouth shut, her eyes focused on the floor. Her guard gave her another punch, this time she was thrown in the air, her mind spinning.

"He's not easily tired," the woman threatened. But something broke in Arya. She was determined not to tell one more word. No matter what Jaqen told her. And even when the guard repeatedly punched her in the face, she somehow couldn't feel the pain. And that was - in a way - more frightening than the whole situation.

"Stop," the woman said to the guard standing above laying Arya.

"Take her back to the dungeon and leave her in the darkness until she screams for light."

The guard practically dragged her all the way back to her prison with Arya slowly regaining her consciousness and awareness. She realized they were sliding on the platform down the sloping wall until they hit the bottom. Her guard shouted in the dark but the cell remained silent. Arya was laying on her back, listening closely. And she prayed to the old gods and the new.

Please... Please, Jaqen.

Like a ghost he appeared behind the guard. She saw only his shady figure faintly enlightened by the torch. He broke the guard's neck swiftly, making no sound. The dead body fell on the ground and Jaqen took the torch, giving the dead guard one last look before shifting his eyes in her direction.

"Time to go, lovely girl," he said, offering her a hand. She grabbed it and he pulled her up.

Arya's memory of their escape was shattered. She could recall Jaqen killing ten or twenty guards along, all clean, silent deaths. When the sunshine hit her, she hissed and closed her eyes, depending entirely on Jaqen's leading. She followed him through the narrow, crowded streets of the city, which seemed enormously huge to her. Many times Jaqen pulled her into a dark corner or alley, spotting a dangerous face or a couple of passing guards. It took almost an hour till they reached the gate leading out.

There were two gate keepers on each side, armed with swords. Two lines of people in opposite directions were going through. Gate keepers were checking them but they were obviously tired in the heat and didn't pay much attention, so they managed to slip under their hands.

"We must go as far from the city as we can," Jaqen said. "They are already looking for us. Move, girl. There's no time to waste."

They left the main road and kept marching through the desert until the night was upon them. Arya didn't look around, she didn't think, she just kept forcing her legs to move. She wasn't counting the hours as the night was progressing and morning getting nearer.

"Jaqen, stop," she said when she knew her legs wouldn't carry her any longer. Jaqen stopped but didn't turn.

"A girl is tired. A man can carry her."

"No," Arya said resolutely, "I only need a short pause."

"A girl is proud," Jaqen said. "A good quality. But not always."

He lifted her in the air easily, keeping his pace. Arya first wanted to fight but found obedience much less exhausting.

"Where are we going?"

"The city Tuzzah," Jaqen explained. Arya had much more questions but couldn't control her tongue any more. They were going uphill and the monotonous swaying up and down made her dizzy. Air was warming up and suddenly a sun beam hit her face. Arya opened her eyes. There were rocks and sand around, everything bathing in the golden light of early morning. She looked up, facing Jaqen for the very first time since she'd said the words.

"A girl looks surprised," Jaqen said calmly. "Maybe she is frightened?"

Arya opened her mouth but no words came from her throat.

"Now you see, lovely girl, what  _faceless_  really means."


	5. Faceless

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Part I - The Wolf Cub and The Phantom

Those black, hollow eyes, shadows lingering around them, the paleness of his skin... It was like the face of a ghost or a phantom, empty, featureless, a face of no one. Arya looked away but couldn't get the image out of her mind.

"A man sees," Jaqen said. "He won't show her his true face if that scares her so."

Arya slowly lifted her eyes and saw the man she remembered. A face with blue, piercing eyes and sharp lines of cheekbones, framed by red hair with white strands and his lips curled into a slight smirk.

"Does a girl like this better?"

She coughed, feeling uneasy.

"I... remember you this way. I -"

"No need to explain yourself," Jaqen said. "I understand you find it less confusing. And frightening. I can be Jaqen H'ghar for you. Nobody in these lands has seen him so it's safe for a man to wear his face."

Jaqen started walking as he spoke and Arya couldn't stop staring at him. It had been so long since she saw him the last time and she felt a strange kind of relief. When she begged him to kill Tywin's soldier so he wouldn't give him the stolen letter and Jaqen agreed to do it, she felt the same relief, only this time it was much stronger.

"How do you do it?"

"A man will explain, but not now," Jaqen said. "He wants a girl to sleep and regain her strength."

Arya knew arguing was pointless and she fell asleep the following second. When she woke up, she was laying in desert on Jaqen's coat. She sat up quickly and saw Jaqen sitting next to her and watching the flames of fire he made.

"A girl is up. Is she feeling better?"

"Yes, thanks," she said, watching him. "What about you?"

"A man was wondering," Jaqen said contemplatively. "Wondering about a girl. Does she still fall asleep with names on her lips? Does she want to leave everything behind and follow the path of revenge?"

"Of course I want," Arya said without thinking. "That's why I'm here. I want to avenge them. Just tell me how."

"It's not an easy journey, not as you imagine it."

"Will you teach me how to change my face?" Arya asked, excited just by the thought of it. Jaqen glared at her.

"Not yet," he said. "The power of face-shifting comes with a price and you saw that not long ago."

Arya widened her eyes but Jaqen continued: "The training you would have to undertake is very difficult. It can take years to finish. And you must dedicate your whole self to it. Every little bit. Give up your past, give up your needs, give up your name and your identity."

"I can do that!"

"But have you thought about the things? Things innate to a woman? Finding a man to love, building a home to live, having a child to raise..."

Arya shook her head.

"I don't need a family, I can manage on my own."

"The path you want to choose is the path of solitude and not particularly happy."

"Then be it," Arya said. "I don't want to be  _happy_. I want to be  _free_. Being free is what makes me happy. Besides, I won't be entirely alone. You'll be there."

Jaqen was listening to her closely and the look of his eyes was telling her she made an impression on him.

"A girl is young," he said then. "She doesn't yet have the need but it may come when it's too late."

"It may and may not," Arya answered. "You can never know."

"Hm..." Jaqen narrowed his eyes slightly. "Perhaps... And the last but the most important part. A girl would have to obey my every order. You, Arya, would have to have an absolute trust in me."

Arya hadn't even realized Jaqen's tone changed from the usual calm to far more serious.

"Think it through and tell me the answer soon."

But Arya knew there wasn't a need to think about it any longer.

"Here's the answer," she said. "It's a yes."

Jaqen smiled, giving in a small nod.

"We will go to Tuzzah in the morning. Rest. A man will watch."

"But I wanted to ask -"

"There will be time for questions. A lot of time."

"I wanted to ask if I can move closer," Arya said. "I'm cold."

"Of course."

When she did that and he put the tip of his coat over her as a blanket, she still felt his eyes on her face. He touched her cheek with his gloved hand and Arya remembered the guard who beat her, realizing she must have had bruises all over her face. She couldn't say it for sure but it looked like Jaqen's eyes glimmered with anger. But he looked away then, leaning his head against the rock. Albeit his eyes were closed, she could say he was very well alert.

"Rest."

"But I can't -"

"A girl will obey every order," he reminded her and she sighed.

"Right," she said silently. "She will. Can I ask you one last question?"

"Go on."

"Why would you do that for me?"

"A man will keep that as a secret, wolf-girl."

"He can try," Arya muffled. "But a wolf-girl is pretty good in uncovering secrets. And we are going to spend a lot of time together."


	6. Swear me, lovely girl

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Part I - The Wolf Cub and The Phantom

The city of Tuzzah was impressive in the light of early morning. Its pale walls looked like made of ivory and the coloured banners like beads on strings, interwoven with the high buildings. They were going down a narrow road leading to an opened gate.

"From now on your name is Cyra until I say otherwise," Jaqen said. "Call me Torsten. You are my daughter and we are going to stay just for a couple of weeks."

Arya nodded.

"Do they know the common language here?"

"Some of them," Jaqen said. "Tuzzah is smaller than Garthos, the city we were imprisoned it. They think we went to the Narrow Sea and Tuzzah is in the opposite direction. It's a good place to hide for some time. But don't be fooled, lovely girl, not even Tuzzah is a safe city. No city in Braavos si safe."

"Do you have money?"

"That shouldn't be a problem," Jaqen said as they entered the gate. Jaqen spoke to the guard and he let them through. Arya's eyes travelled from one building to another, all of them high and white, numerous people passing the streets, chatting with each other. Their clothes were different and she smelled a whole bunch of new fragrances. Soon she realized, with an unpleasant feeling, she was sticking out like a sore thumb, unlike Jaqen, whose long grey cloak and clothes were similar to theirs.

"There is one place we may stay," Jaqen said and kept leading her deeper to the city. When they finally stopped, there was quite a big house in front of them, made of greyish stone, standing at the end of a street and hidden in shadows. Jaqen spoke to the owner for a while, who suspiciously watched Arya the whole time and she unsuccessfully tried to look normal.

"He will rent us a room detached from the house."

Arya followed Jaqen through the building. They crossed a small courtyard and walked along the cloister to another house. Jaqen quickly searched it inside while Arya paid attention to the wet stone walls and spider nets in corners. Nevertheless, it looked cleaner than any other establishment she had seen in recent history.

"We will stay," Jaqen decided, going down the stairs.

"Take any room you want. A man has some more business to do," he noticed her look and added slowly: "No, a girl stays here and opens to no one. Only to a servant who will bring some food soon."

He left and Arya stayed in the hall, too many things whirling in her mind. When she heard a knock, she half-opened the door and saw a boy holding a tray with food. Although Arya tried desperately to find a mean of communication, it was pointless and the servant boy rushed out - obviously not getting a single word she said.

She soothed her empty stomach and thirst and started exploring the house. It was quite big for only two people but she didn't really mind. There were two large rooms upstairs and she chose the one with windows leading to the garden. But soon she returned downstairs, sitting by the table in the dining room. She lit a candle and stared into the flame.

Her mind wondered, images appearing in front of her. The mockery of her brother's dead body, the description of her mother's scream before her throat was cut, the sound of swinging sword when her father was beheaded, Grey Wind's yowl when arrows impaled him through... It was like a big black hole inside her, spreading and threatening to swallow her like a giant dragon's mouth. The people she loved kept leaving her. Was it her destiny to live alone?

As time passed by and Jaqen hadn't come back, the anxiety in Arya's heart was getting worse. Suddenly she felt the unfamiliarity of this place, the cold sound of a language she couldn't speak, thousands of people she didn't know, the loneliness... If Jaqen just decided to leave her, she had no idea what to do. She wouldn't even be able to introduce herself, let alone trying to get a job.

Her thoughts were disrupted by silent steps behind the door. She stood up, blowing out the candle, and silently tip-toed to the door, listening. Somebody was breathing there.

"Jaqen...?" she said quietly. And she froze with dread. She heard silent laughter. The door handle moved then and she widened her eyes in horror. The laugher could be heard again and it sent shivers down her spine. She made a few steps back into the darkness, remembering she wasn't armed. She pressed herself into the corner, listening to the laughter over her heart beating. It seemed like eternity when it suddenly stopped and Arya honestly couldn't be more frightened. The door handle moved again but the door opened this time. Arya's wide opened eyes stared into the dark.

"A wolf-girl is hidden in the dark..."

"Jaqen!"

Arya rushed forward and hugged him tightly, catching him off guard.

"It was only a thief," he explained like trying to calm her down. "He won't come back."

"I thought  _you_  wouldn't come back..." she said, stepping back. Jaqen raised an eyebrow, walking to the dining room and lightening a big candle.

"You don't trust me?"

"I do, I'm just used to people leaving me behind," Arya said, sitting down in front of him and their eyes met.

"But I am no  _people_ ," Jaqen said silently, watching her in the faint, shivering candle light.

"Swear me, Arya," he said suddenly, his tone demanding. There was a sudden urge in his eyes.

"It is not only a girl who must trust a man but also the other way around."

Arya didn't break the eye contact, sensing the importance of his words.

"Take an oath," he continued. "You won't give away anything I tell you. You won't keep any vital secrets from me. You will always be honest with me. And you will always obey. A man must be sure, little girl. And don't swear on gods. Swear on the spirits of your dead family. Swear on their blood."

Arya stared into his eyes, the candle light reflecting in the blue orbs she was about to entrust her life to.

"What a girl says?" he asked, his voice low and vibrating, barely audible. Arya blinked.

"I, Arya Stark, swear to you, Jaqen, nameless and faceless, that by the blood of my father, mother and brothers, I will never lie, never betray and always obey."

Jaqen raised his head, watching her with satisfaction.

"I accept your oath, Arya, wolf-girl. And I swear to you, that you will never be left behind again."


	7. Girl With Wolf Blood in Her Veins

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Part II - The Training

Endless nights spent alone in a house, wondering from one room to another, sporadically visiting the courtyard. Sometimes Arya went to the city but the fact she couldn’t speak the language forced her to stay at home. He never stayed long and she barely saw anything of him during those days when time seemed to stop. Once in a while she saw him sneak out of the house, his face shadowed and eyes distant, knowing it could take him days to return. When she asked anything, _be patient_ was his answer.

Arya shut herself inside, feeling her mind and heart being tied by black strings of sorrow and isolation, only her worst fears keeping her company. She knew Jaqen kept her safe, but not in this way. She stopped asking when the training would begin or why he wouldn’t speak to her for days.

One night she actually managed to fall asleep, haunted by numerous nightmares, just like every other night. The nightmares were getting worse, though, accompanied by stomach and head aches, and the irrational fear she couldn’t understand. She no longer could say if being up and thinking was better than being asleep and defenseless against it.

Suddenly, Jaqen woke her up in the middle of the night and she almost fell off the bed.

“Follow me,” he said simply and Arya slipped down, walking to the night with him. He helped her on his horse and sat behind her. Arya welcomed the fresh air as they trotted out of Tuzzah. For an hour they kept going further until Jaqen stopped. Arya refused his help and jumped down herself.

“Sit down,” he ordered and sat down on a rock in front of her. Arya felt how her anger was growing bigger inside her, with every second of silence.

“Would you like to ask a man a question?”

“What?”

“A girl didn’t hear?”

“A question? Why would I want to ask a question? Just because I’m alone in the house for weeks? Or –,” and she was already heating up -,” because you don’t speak to me? Or because I don’t understand this stupid language? Or because I swore, I put my life into your hands, and you let me rot like this?!”

She hadn’t noticed she stood up and was shouting with fury.

“Or because every night I can see them dying, again and again?!”

She clenched her fists as she was shaking violently. A tear leaked from her eye and she wiped it away. But more and more tears would come and soon she was on her knees weeping, her tears wetting the dusty ground. 

“Don’t fight it,” she heard Jaqen say. “Let it go.”

She didn’t know how long she kept crying but all of the sudden it stopped. She breathed in deeply and stood up, facing Jaqen, who hadn’t moved for the whole time she wept. She felt strangely light, like a heavy stone fell off her shoulders. She felt clean and calm.

“A man saw a girl dwelling in her pain,” Jaqen said. “Every day and every night. She was trying to lock it but that is not the way it works. A girl needed to let go.”

Arya was watching him with tears still blurring her vision.

“Why did you leave me alone?”

He tilted his head on side.

“I kept an eye on you, wolf-girl, but I wanted you to face your demons. I needed your mind untied.”

“You could have said something at least!”

“Patience is a quality you are yet to learn,” he smirked. “Believe me, you’ll need it.”

“I swore my life to you,” Arya said, narrowing her eyes.

“I want you to repay for it. I want you to start training me in combat, with a sword, or just my legs and arms, riding a horse and fighting more than one man at once. I want you to teach me where all lands are laying, names of cities, roads and paths and how to get where I need. And I want you to teach me all the languages you speak!”

Jaqen laughed and shook his head.

“A girl can have that all,” he said. Arya held her breath.

“Really?” she asked and he closed his eyes for a second in agreement. Arya thought about it but had to stop for it felt like a wave coming to wash her away. All this… She will have it all... She looked at him in awe, as he was waiting for more questions. 

“Where were you the whole time?” 

“Working…”

“You got a job in the local bakery or what?”

Jaqen chuckled and his eyes glimmered in the moon light.

“How would you think the house is paid for? There are always buyers for what I offer.”

“Which is what?”

“Death,” he said. Arya opened her mouth. 

“You’re an assassin?!”

“You can call it like that,” he agreed.

“You kill people for money? Innocent people?”

 _“Innocent?”_ he repeated, amused. “After all you’ve seen you still believe in innocent people?”

“Some of them are,” she said. “Would you kill them too?”

“Little Arya,” he said, “you are yet to see the world and you will be able to count the innocent people on fingers of your left hand. If you want be skilled like I am, rethink your view about innocence… However, there is always a choice. If somebody asked a man to kill a widowed farmer with five children, a man can say no.”

Jaqen made a few steps around, looking up at the sky.

“People a man kills are – usually – of the same nature like him.”

He gave her a look over his shoulder.

“Although you swore to obey, this choice is always yours.”

She nodded slowly, letting his words go through her mind.

“A man has something for you,” Jaqen said. He held a sack in his hand, handling it to her. She unwrapped it and widened her eyes. There was brand new dress for her, obviously made by the finest hands in Tuzzah. Dark grey pants of soft leather, ivory long-sleeved shirt, short jacket with dark vermillion straps and high laced boots.

Arya looked up at him and suddenly felt so overwhelmed she couldn’t speak a single word. Jaqen saw that in her face and merely waved his hand.

“No need for thanking, lovely girl. Try it on.”

Arya dressed behind a rock. It was like standing on the edge of the unknown, with thrills tickling her skin, with fear rushing somewhat pleasantly through her veins. She walked out, standing in front of her guardian. Jaqen looked her up and down and nodded slowly, a smile spreading on his lips.

“A man sees a girl with wolf blood in her veins,” he said, coming closer to her. She had to tilt her head back so she wouldn’t break their eye contact.

“Let’s make a warrior out of her,” he said and Arya felt her own lips curling into a smile, life once again spurting in her heart. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks for the kudos, happy you liked the first part.  
> Could you leave me a note in comments as well, please? That'd be most kind! It'd be really nice to know some of your opinions! Thanks :-)


	8. Veil

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Part II - The Training

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> ***Inspired by an actual part in the books, some of you may know. Really wish this was in the show :-)***

Since that night Jaqen had given her new dress, Arya couldn’t say she would have some time left for dwelling in her pain. When she was alone in the house, she was studying maps and books Jaqen provided and at nights they went to the desert, where Jaqen was training her in combat and sword.

Quite often he tied a cloth around her head to cover her eyes, forcing her to rely only on what she could hear, making her wear it the whole day or during the training.

“Listen, wolf-girl,” he’d whisper to her ear like a silent blow of wind. “Listen and fight me…”

His voice was her only lead, often she would forget he was a man of flesh and blood and thought he was more than that – a phantom, the voice in the wind.

“You’ll be facing times in your life, wolf-girl, when your ears can mean the difference between life and death.”

She used to go to bed with bruises and scratches, exhausted to a point not even her nightmares would haunt her. And when there was free time, Jaqen was teaching her the language of Braavos. He also gave her a task that firstly seemed easy but with time proved to be almost impossible.

“If a girl manages to surprise a man once, she shall receive a special gift from him.”

Despite her best efforts he always spotted her in a split second, giving her the kind of smirk she grew to very much dislike.

But even if Arya was frustrated many times, feeling she didn’t do well, annoyed how difficult Braavos language was or that she wasn’t making any progress in combat at all, she wouldn’t say a word. Only when she was alone she would swear, but never in front of Jaqen.

In the evening of the fifty third day in Tuzzah, she was walking around her room, naming aloud all important isles of Braavos and imagining their position on the map. She heard steps downstairs, meaning Jaqen was back. She welcomed that for she hadn’t seen him for four days, which was long even for him. When she didn’t find him in the house, she took a look to the private bathhouse that was a part of the building, accessible only to residents.

She indeed found him in one of the wooden tubs, soaking in hot water and shrouded with steam. His head was leaning against the tub side, his eyes closed. There were only two torches on the walls, leaving the surroundings in darkness. Arya watched him wordlessly, the eerie man she hadn’t yet been able to understand. Never explaining his decisions, the reasons he did what he did, leaving her in the mist of doubts, keeping this semitransparent veil between them. But with him lying in the tub almost like he’d be sleeping – which Arya hadn’t actually seen him do before – the veil seemed to disappear for the first time.

She made a few steps closer, as quiet as possible, until she could almost touch his arm.

“A girl is getting better,” he said smoothly, with his eyes remaining closed. Arya stooped her shoulders with disappointment.

“I hate you,” she uttered and he smirked, as he knew she didn’t mean it.

“You’ve been long gone,” she remarked and he just slid a bit lower in the tub.

“Yes…”

“I’ve learned all Braavos’ islands; I can name them to you.”

“Go on,” he prompted her and when she finished, he nodded with appreciation.

“Very good.”

Arya smiled. He rarely praised her but when he did, she always felt happy.  

“D’arhull iraa tsi entharan,” he said, which meant: _a girl isn’t wasting her time._

“Of course I’m not, what did you think? How do you say _happy_ in Braavos?”

“Zywa.”

“D’arhull tsi zywa unn narathan,” Arya said and earned yet another appreciative smile.

“A girl is happy?”

“She’wa,” she agreed. “I wanted to know how you say moon, stars and night.”

“Larro, enarani, ghasaa.”

Arya thought about it for a while, forming sentences in her head, asking Jaqen if they were correct. She hadn’t realized until he hadn’t answered he was dozing off.

“Will you sleep in the tub tonight? You better watch out or you’re going to drown.”

Jaqen snorted, mildly amused and obviously completely worn out.  

“That wouldn’t sound very well now, would it?” Arya asked. “The best assassin I know – drowned while having a bath. Certainly not the kind of death you’d wish for.”

She giggled and even Jaqen laughed in his own derisive manner.  

“I can wash your hair,” she offered. He half-opened his eyes and gave her a deep look but gestured his hand wearily. She took the bucket and filled it with water, pouring it slowly over his hair.

“Is a girl still having nightmares?” he asked, keeping his eyes closed. Arya raised an eyebrow, surprised when detecting genuine interest in his tone.

“No,” she said. “Seems they’re gone for now…”

She poured another bucket of hot water over him, brushing his hair off his eyes.

“A girl is gentle…” he said quietly, his tongue lazy and his tone sleepy. “A man didn’t know a wolf could be so gentle…”

“Even a wolf can be gentle to those he cares for,” she explained. “What about you, Jaqen?”

He didn’t answer which wasn’t much of a surprise, but Arya could at least say – by the look of his face – he’d certainly thought of it. She kept brushing his hair, finding an odd delight in it. Suddenly, an idea sparkled in her mind. She crept to another tub with cold water and filled the bucket with it, creeping back. Time for her special gift…

Just when she put the bucket above his head, his arms moved so fast she could only blink and he grabbed her tightly by her forearms. She dropped the bucket into the tub, her heart racing in shock. He tilted his head back and their eyes met.  

“A girl wants to play?” he sneered and before she could say anything he sank her head under water. He let go then and Arya leaped back with a yell, soaked wet.

“Jaqen!”

Arya fell silent when she noticed Jaqen’s alert expression. He put a finger across his mouth, looking behind her shoulder. Arya turned her head partially, catching sight of Jaqen slipping out of the tub like a cat and disappearing in shadows.

What did he see?

Arya screamed. A man in armor emerged from the dark cloister, going after her. She turned, crawling away on all four. The man was trying to grab her legs and she kept kicking until she heard him gasp in pain. She turned, not seeing anything in the darkness but could hear the noise of a fight, swords clashing and heavy breathing.

She started when another man rushed from the darkness right in front of her. He stopped abruptly, rasping, the tip of a sword protruding from his chest. Arya looked behind his shoulder.

Jaqen was towering above her with his body gleaming faintly, water trickling down his dark skin. He threw the impaled man away, his eyes narrowed, creases forming on his forehead.

“They found us…”

“Who?”

He slowly walked to the wooden bench and took a bath sheet, wrapping it around his waist.

 “Men of Garthos,” he replied. “Obviously.”

“But how?” she didn’t understand. “Nobody can describe you, right?”

“Yes,” he agreed, looking her in the eyes. “But they can describe _you_ , lovely girl. We must leave tonight.”

Arya gulped, getting what that actually said. She will always be a threat, always a weakness for him. A burden.

“What, lovely girl?” he asked. “Only a small wolf cub is vulnerable. And a man is willing to wait till it grows up.” 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Drop a comment, please, so I know I'm writing it for someone.   
> I'd welcome your opinion on their relationship, will appreciate it a lot!   
> And thank you for reading :-)


	9. Trust

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Part II - The Training

“Attack me, wolf-girl…”

The phantom’s voice whispered into her ear, leaving her body in slight shiver. Arya’s eyes were covered again and she had Jaqen’s spare sword in her right hand. She held her breath, focusing only on what she could hear. Wind blowing faintly, lizard’s legs scuttling on the sand, quiet squeaking of her own boots… But his steps she couldn’t hear.

“I said attack!” he shouted and Arya grimaced, whirling around after his voice.

“Move!” she shouted back.

“I _am_ moving,” he answered almost teasingly.  

“I can’t hear you,” she uttered with frustration.

“A girl isn’t paying enough attention…”

Arya stayed still, letting out an angry sigh. She calmed down, though, trying again. She separated the wind and crawling insect from the silence, concentrating deeply.

Barely audible sound of dress shifting, right behind her...

Arya turned in a split second, swinging her sword. She yelped shocked when her sword clashed with another blade.

“Yes!” she exclaimed with joy and satisfaction, attacking him again, fiercely, swaying her sword in the air. But Jaqen pushed her away harshly so she fell on her back, hitting the ground.

“Damn!” she swore, tearing the cloth off her eyes.

“Why did you do that? I’ve finally made it!”

“You’ve made what?” he asked, raising an eyebrow.

“I hit you!”

“Maybe…” he admitted. “You hit my sword one time but would be killed five times.”

“Why are you telling me that? Do you think I don’t know just how useless I still am? I’ve finally managed to achieve one thing and what’s your answer? Mockery! If I wanted someone to mock me, I could have stayed where I was!”

Arya was picking herself up with more murmuring and swearing.

“A girl is stupid if she thinks a man is so low he’d enjoy mocking her for her lack of skills.”

Arya looked up at him, her eyes still slightly narrowed.

“This wildness is a quality of yours –,” Jaqen put his sword back into the sheath,”– but it is also your greatest flaw. Fighting furiously like that doesn’t mean winning. It means _defeat_ if you come across an opponent with cool head and tactics. You need to learn how to control your temper and use it for good.”

Jaqen turned his back on her.

“I’ve never said the first strike was bad, though,” he added and carried on walking. Arya was staring after him, breathing heavily and thinking if what he said insulted her or flattered her. And she came to the conclusion both was right.

It had been three days since they left Tuzzah, walking through the desert, with Arya appreciating Jaqen’s readiness as he had packed a lot of food and water for their journey. They kept along the main road, a dangerous one to walk but they didn’t have enough food and water to make a detour, let alone feeding the horse. Robbers often took the road too but they were lucky enough not to meet them yet.

“Why are we going to Tyrosh again?” Arya asked, walking beside Jaqen. Except the practicing or language lessons Jaqen wouldn’t say a single word and they went in silence all the time. Arya didn’t disturb him, feeling like an intruder a bit, and she filled the silent parts with repeating what she’d learned. But after some it’d come to a point Arya couldn’t bear the silence anymore.

“I haven’t told you yet.”

“Indeed you haven’t,” Arya said. “That’s why I ask.”

“It is a city they most likely won’t be looking for us in.”

“You are good enough to kill like everybody, why are we running away at all?”

Jaqen snorted.

“Although I feel deeply flattered, lovely girl, there are still enemies I wouldn’t want to meet.”

“You mean the Ruthraya? Who are they anyway?”

“The highest priests of my order. They are also the most skilled. Their duty is to watch over others, see if they abide the rules.”

“Has anyone broken the rules before?”

“It’s happened,” Jaqen said. “Once in a hundred years.”

Arya guessed, judging by what she knew and what he told her, breaking the rules must have been like the worst thing ever.

“Faceless Men worship the Red God,” Arya said. “Isn’t breaking the rules against him?”

“Of course,” Jaqen uttered. “Quite a stupid question.”

“I’m just wondering,” Arya continued, her eyes fixed upon him, “what made you betray them and your god.”

He gave her a cold side look and she backed off. Evidently not a safe ground, she thought.

“I will answer to my god for my doings. But that is only my business, girl.”

“They wanted to execute you. How did you know I’d come soon enough?”

“I know their ways. They were waiting for you to come. Once you would be in their hands, they would question me again, threatening to me with your death. And the execution would be carried out on the third day, usually.”

“But why was I so important to them?”

“You were a part of that deal I broke,” Jaqen said. “But ask no more, wolf-girl. A man does not like speaking of this matter.”

“I swore my life to you,” Arya reminded him. “Don’t you think I deserve a bit of trust?”

“Trust?” Jaqen repeated and stopped, meeting her eyes. There was something beyond the calm surface of his blue orbs, something dark and dreadful.

“A man has already given you his trust, wolf-girl. Don’t ask for more as it is not possible.”

His voice was dripping with ice and Arya shut her mouth at once, remaining silent utill the night changed to morning and the sun set, sending long, reddish rays around, the light reflecting against sand and stones. She glanced at Jaqen secretly, the color of his hair was burning red like flames.

“Red dusk,” Arya said. “It means shed blood.”

A scornful pout appeared on Jaqen’s face.

“How come every dusk isn’t red, then?” he asked. But Arya felt nervous for an unknown reason.

After a few more hours they paused near a big rock. It was a chilly night but Jaqen said making fire would be too risky. Arya walked a couple of meters to the shadows and dark. Every night she would do that – walk to the darkness alone – and look up at the stars, saying names of her family, hoping they could hear her. But that night she stayed silent, her eyes fixed on fire light in distance.

“Robbers,” she heard Jaqen’s voice. The assassin was standing behind her, motionless, looking in the same direction.

“Are they dangerous?”

“Depends…” he said. “A girl stays here and waits. A man will take a look himself.”

As he vanished, taking his horse with him, Arya leaned against the rock, waiting impatiently, her feeling of menace not going away.

“I think you should come back, Jaqen…” she whispered and at the moment she froze like a statue. Wind carried someone’s words towards her.

“Gidzah u’tani yateh uwa, yash-el di inebri…”

Arya widened her eyes. It was Braavos language. And she could translate it fairly well.

_“Let’s wait for the bastard and cut his throat.”_

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Drop a comment, please, so I know I'm writing it for someone.  
> I'd welcome your opinion on their relationship, will appreciate it a lot!  
> And thank you for reading :-)


	10. Bravery

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Part II - The Training

“You see this stuff? It’s fucking expensive. This bastard is rich. I say we flay him first and cut his head off later.”

“Or we can roast him.”

“Yeah, I like that!”

“But we must hide before he comes.”

Arya was watching them from the top of the highest rock she climbed. Pressing herself against the cold stone, she did her best to calm down the frantic beating of her heart.  

She was listening to them and although Arya hadn’t been good in Braavos yet, she could catch a word or two, enough to get what they were talking about.

There were ten tall, broad-shouldered men waiting for Jaqen. Arya gulped. If she could somehow slip away and warn him… That wasn’t possible, though, because they surrounded the rock she was on. Arya felt the fear rising in her chest. They were going to kill him right in front of her…

An approaching horse could be heard and Arya crawled nearer the edge, preparing to jump down. She’d almost done that but something held her back. What if she did it? She would jump in the middle of a fight where she’d get killed in a second. Not mentioning her only weapon was the small knife she stole from the guard in Garthos. She wouldn’t accomplish anything and not even saving Jaqen’s life would be certain. She had to warn him in a different way.

Arya breathed in deeply and howled, doing her best to make it sound like a wolf. The horse canter stopped but went on right off.

Arya narrowed her eyes. The horse appeared below but was carrying no rider. Arya watched the horse stop, jumping restlessly. Where was Jaqen? Did they kill him already? She felt her stomach wrench when only thinking about it.

“Totre rhaanar an sadom!” one of the men shouted, which meant: _Somebody else’s killed him._

He caught the horse, the animal fighting violently against him. Arya knew the horse wouldn’t stand anybody but Jaqen touching it.

“Rakhar rhaan,” another man said. _Kill the beast._

The man holding Jaqen’s horse drew his sword out but that was the last thing he had ever done. In the following second he was on the ground with a knife sticking out of his neck. Before they could react, a shady figure attacked them, killing two men hidden behind a bush at once. The others came out of hiding with roaring and swearing.

He was more like a shadow than a man, so fast his opponents didn’t even know what hit them when he cut off their heads. But Arya recognized him, breathing out with relief. She watched him sink his sword into their hearts and necks and suddenly saw how dangerous Jaqen really was. He was no mere assassin but a man trained for killing kings. Robbers like this were no opponents to him.

While she was thinking, one man stepped away from the fight, pointing a crossbow at Jaqen.

“No!” Arya roared. She jumped off the rock, anguish and adrenaline mixing in her veins. She fell right on the man and started stabbing him to every part of his body she could reach. Soon his blood was covering her hands and face but she wouldn’t stop. Screaming with hate and fear, she kept stabbing him even when he was lying on the ground. She carved his face, sliced his neck and chest, blood splashing around. It was almost like she couldn’t stop until she felt a touch on her shoulder.

“Enough, wolf-girl. He can’t be more dead.”

Arya stopped, breathing heavily and feeling vaguely ill. She lifted her eyes to Jaqen, who was watching her silently. Behind him there was a pile of dead bodies of the men he slaughtered. He didn’t say a word, just wiped the blood off her face with a piece of cloth.

“Is a girl hurt?”

She shook her head and asked: “Are they all dead?”

Jaqen nodded.

“The sun is going to rise soon. We’ll wait.”

He passed by the dead bodies and sat down, leaning against the rock. Arya sat down in front of him. The rush of excitement and fear hadn’t been completely gone yet. Slowly she was calming down. She was watching Jaqen; realizing with a bit of shock just how much afraid she was that she could lose him.

“A girl saved a man again,” Jaqen said, waking Arya from her contemplation.

“It was mutual this time,” she said and he smirked.

“A man is grateful,” he said smoothly, his tone unusually soft.

“What you did was brave.”

“I didn’t do it out of bravery,” Arya said. “I did it out of fear.”

Jaqen looked her in the eyes with a slight hint of surprise.

“That makes it braver,” he said then. “But you don’t need to be so afraid, lovely girl. It takes much more than ten robbers to kill me.”

If anybody else would have said that, it’d been boasting to Arya. But Jaqen was merely stating.

“Don’t be so humble,” she muttered and Jaqen’s face lit up with amusement.

“A man was just saying the truth,” he objected calmly, evidently provoking her a little.

“Fine, so what _would be_ difficult for you?” Arya asked, quite curious. “Fighting ten dragons alone? Wait, no, sorry, that would be like blowing a candle out for you. Perhaps fighting an army of dragons could make you a bit busy, right?”

Jaqen laughed.

“A girl is teasing me?” he asked, raising an eyebrow slowly.

“No, a girl is just curious,” Arya said with a smile.

“She is indeed,” Jaqen agreed. “Maybe she could think about it on her own.”

Arya knew it’d really meant he wasn’t going to answer her questions anymore, as he usually when she asked too much.

“Why don’t you sleep for a while?” Arya asked. “I’ll watch.”

Jaqen seemed like considering it for a while.

“Very well, lovely girl,” he said finally. “If you watch as good as you howl there’s no need for a man to worry.”

Arya was watching for the rest of the night, alert the whole time. Although she was suspicious Jaqen was awake and was pretending he was sleeping, as she spotted he’d smirked once or twice, she didn’t actually mind.

When the sun rose in the morning, Arya started packing their stuff, putting it on Jaqen’s horse. Jaqen said it would be five more days to Tyrosh and they needed to move on before they’d run out of food and water.

“Lovely girl,” she heard Jaqen calling her and turned, narrowing her eyes against the sharp sun beams. Jaqen brought a black horse back with him.

“I let the other horses go,” he explained, “but this horse belonged to the man you killed. Keep it.”

Arya shifted her look from the horse to Jaqen. The assassin was smiling lightly.

“You defeated him so you can have his horse. It’s very simple, wolf-girl.”

Arya didn’t ask how he was able to say which horse belonged to whom but took a good look at the horse instead. She had to admit it was a beautiful stallion. Lean, strong, with long and shiny mane. It too was stamping nervously, snorting and shaking its head. Arya took the reins from Jaqen’s hand, reaching her arm and touching the white blaze on the horse’s head.

The horse raised on hind legs, neighing. Arya shot Jaqen a worried look but he was just standing there with his arms crossed on his chest.

“Tame your horse, girl,” he said.

“How?”

“Anyhow,” Jaqen replied. “It’s your horse. Only you can do it, otherwise the horse will never obey to you.”

Arya fearfully approached the animal again, holding the reins tightly, trying to keep it from rising again.

“Hush now…” she said, her voice trembling a bit, remembering her father talking to quick-tempered horses. She was talking to the horse for a couple of minutes, watching it calming down. She got on it then and kept talking into its ear, stroking its neck, until the horse was standing still. She looked up at Jaqen with both surprise and pride.

“Time to teach you how to ride a horse,” Jaqen uttered quietly.

“I’ll name him Nuvian,” Arya said, which meant “midnight” in Braavos. Jaqen got on his own horse and Arya raised an eyebrow.

“Does he have a name?”

“Sypherion,” Jaqen said and the horse snorted when hearing his name.

“Sypherion?” Arya repeated. “That means _sea breeze_. Why did you name him like this?”

Jaqen looked at her over his shoulder.

“A girl asks too much again but asking questions won’t get us to Tyrosh in time.”

“But it’ll make the journey funnier,” Arya objected and heard him mutter something like: “A man seriously doubts that.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Drop a comment, please, so I know I'm writing it for someone.  
> I'd welcome your opinion on their relationship, will appreciate it a lot!  
> And thank you for reading :-)


	11. Mirror

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Part II - The Training

In the evening of the seventh day of their journey they finally reached the sea port to Tyrosh. They sailed for one more day on a huge boat Jaqen paid for, arriving to Tyrosh late in the afternoon. And if Arya was bewildered in Tuzzah, she was absolutely stunned in Tyrosh.

Tyrosh was a very large city, protected by high walls. They had to pay for entrance but on the other hand nobody was interested in their business there. Arya was told by Jaqen about the city on their way. That place was dangerous in many ways. People living there worshipped money above everything and would be able to sell their own mother if the price was high enough. They spent the first day in Tyrosh wondering through its streets, crowded and lively more than those in Tuzzah, until Jaqen found a suitable accommodation in one of the quieter streets further from the center.

Their house was smaller than the Tuzzah one but with a stable for their horses. In the first three days Jaqen found her a job in a large public house called Dragon’s Head, which hadn’t made Arya happy.

“I must train,” she said. “Not wash the floor after some old boozers throw up on it. You have enough money to pay for the house, this shitty job is useless.”

Jaqen shook his head with the typical smirk on his lips.

“It’s a part of your training.”

“I don’t remember I’d want to be a stupid housewife!”

Jaqen chuckled, while he was sharpening his sword on the courtyard.

“A girl doesn’t have to worry about that,” he said. “But a man wants her to observe people.”

Arya raised an eyebrow.

“You need to know people,” Jaqen continued, trying the blade with his fingers. “Their characters, how they react, what they do when they are angry or scared, drunk or happy. What they do when they lie to those they pretend to be friends with, but who they slander when they leave. Observe them, Arya. Look at them, into their eyes, at their gestures, listen to the tone of their voices. Be quiet, don’t stick out. Just watch them.”

Jaqen put his sword aside, asking for Arya’s knife but she shook her head.

“I’ll do it myself,” she said, sitting to the sharpener.

“You watched me sharpening the sword, now you know how to do it yourself,” Jaqen said above her. “I want you to do the same in the public house. Maybe you don’t see it the way I do yet, but you must know people if you want to be a step ahead.”

Arya did what she was told eventually, not only because she swore to obey no matter what. She surely hated the job. The public house smelled like crap, was full of drunken men and their whores, the air was thick with the odor of sweat and piss.

Other parts of her training she liked much more. Jaqen would still take her out of the city to practice, including how to ride a horse. Arya would never say just how hard it was to ride a horse and fight with a sword all at once, how extremely exhausting an hour of non-stop sword practicing could be, or how much pain it was causing to her muscles every day.

“Am I getting any better, Jaqen?” she asked the forty second night in Tyrosh, when she was laying in cold sand, completely tired out, and Jaqen was somewhere above, watching the stars.

“You’re still doing the same mistake, lovely girl,” he said in his usual serene manner. “You fight too viciously. Use your strength in a smarter way. Sometimes a fight can take hours and like this you’ll tire yourself in a couple of minutes.”

“But how am I going to do that?” Arya asked. She wasn’t angry, she just really didn’t know.

Jaqen was watching her contemplatively and shook his head.

“That is very hard to explain.”

“Fine,” Arya uttered. “In other words it’s like saying I’m too stupid to understand.”

“A man will show,” Jaqen said and gestured her to come to him.

“Close your eyes,” he asked her and she nodded. He moved behind her, wrapping his gloved fingers around her wrists. He started mimicking the sword fight again, but slowly, leading her all the time. Arya knew his every move but she could feel the difference between his and her way of doing it.

“Use your weight, wolf-girl,” he whispered into her ear. “And use the weight of your opponent. Let your enemy help you kill them. It’s simple if you know how to…”

Arya was listening to him in excitement, his voice so near her, she always liked when he’d been so near her. She could feel his breath against the skin on her neck.

“A girl has a temper and a man likes that,” he kept whispering. “But a wise girl knows how to use it. A wise girl’s mind is calm, she holds her temper down and she unleashes it only when she knows it’s the right time…”

Jaqen grabbed her around her waist and lifted up, with Arya gasping for air.

“You’ve fooled your enemy now, so you can strike…”

He swayed with Arya’s hand forcefully.

“It’s time to show your wolf blood, girl…”

He finished with several faster, strong lunges.

“Do you see…?” he asked and Arya nodded without words.

“Show me, then,” he said, turning her around and facing her, drawing his sword. Arya did the same, not breaking their eye contact. He lifted his head slowly, a playful smirk appearing once again on his lips. She narrowed her eyes and attacked him.

Jaqen was naturally keeping his strength on the lowest levels, while Arya was doing her best to control her urges of attacking thoughtlessly. As she continued, she could see contentment in his eyes.

“Try the trick,” he prompted her and she did the difficult spin he’d been teaching her for so long. She remembered the moment a while ago and attacked unexpectedly with a series of quick, strong blows.

Suddenly, Jaqen laughed.

“Very well, wolf-girl!” he said and Arya felt like a giant bubble of pride and joy was growing in her stomach.

“Don’t forget this,” he said, his eyes glimmering in the dark. Arya promised not to. She certainly couldn’t forget this night, ever. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Drop a comment, please, so I know I'm writing it for someone.  
> I'd welcome your opinion on their relationship, will appreciate it a lot!  
> And thank you for reading :-)


	12. Dragon's Head

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Part II - The Training

The owner of the public house Arya was working in was a big fat man, exactly the type she disliked. Foul breath and sweaty all over his face, he enjoyed shouting “boo” at her when she didn’t expect it and laugh over her spilling the water or jumping in the air.

Nevertheless, she stopped complaining and rather followed Jaqen’s advice and observed the people. Within one night in Dragon’s Head she saw more weird people than during her entire life. She was naming them after their unusual features.

There were two friends, Eye and Bone. Eye was insulting Bone everytime Bone wasn’t there, other times he acted like his best friend, except he rather played with crumbles on the table than look him in the eyes.

A bearded man “Grumble” brought a whore with him one night, his friend Big Nose wanted to buy her. He paid for her but Grumble eventually refused to give her to him. They were both drunk and started laughing but when Grumble turned his back on him, Big Nose stuck a knife in his back.

Or two brothers telling stories about women they raped, secretly touching each other under the table. A young mother with a child, trying to sell the child to have money to buy wine. Sailors provoking everybody just to beat the shit out of anyone. Old man with blisters on his face, coming late when everybody was drunk, looking for whores and taking them out with him. Creepy father with a young daughter, evidently selling her to men for money.

 “People are disgusting,” she said one evening, when she was sitting outside the house waiting for Jaqen. He had much more work here than he had in Tuzzah and she saw him even less than before. She was suspicious, though, that he wasn’t just “working,” as he was calling it, but she knew asking him about that would be useless.

“Quite often,” he replied.

“They make me sick,” she continued. “If I killed them all, who would miss them?”

“These people are one of the lowest,” Jaqen agreed. “But you can see on them how regular people would act if they didn’t have to control themselves. It’s actually very educational.”

Jaqen stopped and when he saw how morose she was, he sat down on a stone in front of her.

“A girl hadn’t known what people are like before?” he asked curiously. “Men are usually all the same. Some of them just don’t smell so bad.”

“My father and my brothers were kind. They weren’t like this.”

“Do you know why?” Jaqen asked. Arya shot him a look.

“Because they were better.”

Jaqen smirked.

“Were they born better?”

Arya opened her mouth to argue but actually had nothing to say.

“Or were they lucky, because they were born to such parents?”

Arya frowned.

“So you think I should have understanding, right? Poor people, it’s not their fault they’re getting drunk every day, sell their children for whores and have absolutely no purpose to be alive…”

Jaqen laughed bitterly.

“Life is full of choices,” he said. “It’s up on all of us to make them. It’d be easier to blame our upbringing, of course, but I’m afraid it’s not that simple. Although for some people making good choices is less difficult than for others. That’s all I’m saying, lovely girl.”

Arya watched his blue eyes looking back at her and she saw the truth and rationality in them.

“What about you?” she asked. “And your upbringing?”

Jaqen remained silent.

“Why don’t you tell me? It’s not such a big thing…”

“A man has no past,” he said finally, his voice flat. “He has no memories like that.”

“I think you’re lying,” Arya said. “It’s in your voice. You’re so calm and wise all the time but you won’t say a word about yourself.”

Jaqen narrowed his eyes a little, his hair casting dark shadows on his face.

“You learn fast, wolf-girl.”

Arya grimaced at him.

“Fine, have your secrets. I’ll make you talk one day,” she said, ignoring the annoyed expression he put on.

Among the working, practicing, language teaching, horse riding and other things Arya was doing as a part of her training, she befriended a boy named Leif who was also working in Dragon’s Head. He was very shy and it took Arya nearly two months to get him to speak but he was a funny company. She asked him to talk to her simpler so she could understand. Jaqen added Tyroshi as another language for her to learn, as her Braavos was getting better. Fortunately the two languages were quite similar to each other.

“Cyra,” he whispered, pointing his finger at a man secretly pissing into the cup of his friend.

“Oh no…” Arya said when the friend came back and drank it.

“Still better than the wine,” Leif uttered.

“Hey, boy!”

Arya turned around; spotting the old man she was calling Blister.

“Another cup,” he ordered and Leif nodded, taking his cup. When he came back, Blister grabbed his arm.

“Drink, boy,” he said. “The wine is good.”

Leif was too timid to not obey, so he lifted the cup to his lips. Arya approached them.

“I need your help, Leif,” she said. The old man looked at her.

“Why don’t you let him have some fun?” he asked.

“I don’t think he’d like this kind of _fun_.”

Blister shot her a glare but Arya knew his ways. People didn’t like him much and he wouldn’t want to get into trouble. She took Leif away, telling him to keep away from Blister. Leif was astonished.

“You’re good. How do you know all that?”

“I watch,” Arya said. “That’s enough.”

Leif walked her home after they finished, evidently a gesture of gratitude for saving him from Blister. Arya wanted to part in front of the house.

“My father likes his privacy,” she said.

“I understand,” Leif said. “What does he do?”

“He… Well, he’s a…He works…”

“Hard.”

Arya turned, startled, when Jaqen emerged from the shadows.

“It’s not safe to stand here at night, girl,” he said and the unusual sound of his voice made Leif raise his eyebrows.

“This is Leif,” Arya said quickly. “Leif, this is my…father, Torsten.”

“Nice to meet you, sir…” Leif said nervously, obviously sensing the odd and dangerous aura that was embracing Jaqen all the time. Jaqen wasn’t making it any easier, quite the opposite. He was looking down at him with piercing eyes, reflecting great displeasure, practically making him flee without a goodbye. Jaqen hadn’t spoken until they were inside the house. Arya was looking at him taking his armor off, noticing creases on his forehead.

“A man thought a girl was smarter,” he said without looking at her, his voice bitting. Arya shook her head.

“It’s just a boy.”

“A boy?” Jaqen repeated with disapproval. “He’s at least two years older than you. You are thirteen and you have already killed.”

“He’s harmless,” Arya objected but Jaqen disagreed.

“You cannot know that. You barely know him.”

“Are you telling me I can’t have any friends?” she asked and Jaqen shot her a glare.

“You _can’t_ ,” he said and evidently meant it. “If you want to have friends, you shouldn’t have come to me. You chose a path where friends are either a burden or traitors. Danger in both cases.”

Jaqen looked away then and added: “Get rid of him. I don’t want to see you two ever again.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Drop a comment, please, so I know I'm writing it for someone.  
> I'd welcome your opinion on their relationship, will appreciate it a lot!  
> And thank you for reading :-)


	13. Mistake

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Part II - The Training

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A bit shorter, I know, but stay tuned, the next will explain it all.

Tyrosh was a very dirty city. The streets were full of garbage and often she smelled rotting fish in the air. She went shopping at the big market near the port, buying fresh fruit and some meat. She learned to cook a few meals from the cook in Dragon’s Head, an older woman named Evora, who was a good cook but not really fond of cleanness. Arya didn’t care much about what she was eating, though. With Jaqen gone most of the time she didn’t like spending time alone in the house, so she was exploring the streets instead. She used it as an opportunity to practice her Tyroshi as well, trying to understand people talking or asking them some things as well.

She would meet many slaves there, women or young children, slavers or orphans, homeless or whores, warriors and sailors, charlatans or merchants. And Tyroshi people of course, wearing bright colored clothes and with their eyes and mouths painted to appear more attractive. They were very loud, shouting at each other or singing on the streets.

Therefore Arya was very happy when they went practicing and left the city. Sometimes they went to the sea. There was a small beach Arya adored, especially in the light of sunset. She liked breathing in the sea wind, letting it go through her hair.

“One day I would like to sail the sea.”

Arya was standing on the beach, looking at the moon reflecting in water. Jaqen approached her, silent as usual.

“I want to see what’s there,” she continued. “Explore it…”

She turned her head a bit.

“I can’t stay in one place. When I accomplish what I swore, I’ll leave.”

“A girl won’t have a home,” Jaqen said, standing by her side.

“A home is like a cage,” Arya said. “You can’t lock a wolf into a cage.”

“A girl should do what she wants then,” he said and Arya nodded.

“She will…”

They practiced afterwards and Arya could finally say she was improving. She was afraid, especially in the beginning, because she was aware of how skilled Jaqen was. There were years and years of training behind his abilities. And she thought it was just too much for her, let alone the fact she wasn’t really a patient person. Jaqen had been training her for half a year already and once in a while he was watching her with strange light in his eyes; which was the closest thing to actual praise he would give her. Arya was happy to make him proud – in a way – despite she was doing it primarily for herself. She always did what he asked her to do, always. Except for one particular matter…

“Are you sure you are from Tyrosh?” she asked Leif one evening. “All people who were born here look like whores and you can hear them from miles away.”

Leif laughed shyly, continuing with scrubbing the floor while people walked above them.

“My mother was from Braavos,” he said.

“Really? Jaq –“

Arya shook her head and stayed silent.

“Where is your father?” Leif asked.

“He left yesterday, took a boat. He told me he had some business to do.”

“Isn’t he afraid to let you alone?”

“I can take care of myself,” Arya stated. “I can fight, ride a horse and even handle a sword.”

“He looks pretty scary to me,” Leif said. “Is he nice to you?”

 “Yes. I lost everyone; he’s the only one left.”

“Do you love him?” Leif wondered and Arya gave him a short glare.

“Of course,” she said firmly. “What did you think? He’s my father.”

“True…” Leif said and glanced at her. “I think you are a terrific girl. He must be proud.”

Arya felt herself smile almost reflexively but shook the smile away. She noticed Leif was blushing. It was really late but she didn’t mind, Jaqen was gone and she liked chatting with Leif more than sitting at home alone. After the shift was over he offered to walk her home again, which Arya accepted, relieved Jaqen wouldn’t jump from shadows again. 

“This isn’t a very nice city, is it?”

“No and it smells like fish,” Arya said. Leif stopped and touched her hand. Arya looked him in the green eyes. She felt her heart racing a little faster.

“You are very beautiful,” Leif said. Arya seriously doubted that.

“Don’t try this on me. I look like a boy, I’m wearing boy clothes and I’m dirty in the face.”

Leif chuckled, brushing her hair. Arya couldn’t say she didn’t like it.

“I’m telling the truth, Cyra. You are beautiful. Many men say that.”

“What men?” Arya raised her eyebrow. Suddenly something hit her in the head and she yelped, her vision blurring as she was falling into darkness and silence. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Drop a comment, please, so I know I'm writing it for someone.  
> I'd welcome your opinion on their relationship, will appreciate it a lot!  
> And thank you for reading :-)


	14. Chained I

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Part II - The Training

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A bit tough one. I warn you it's a bit explicit and includes swearing and other dangerous stuff...

“No, please…”

Arya shivered. She tried to open her eyes but her eyelids were too heavy.  

“Don’t, please…”

Arya opened her eyes slowly.

“Don’t…”

Her eyes regained the ability to focus. She saw she was in some kind of a cellar. When she tried to move, she heard chains rattling above. Her hands were cuffed and chained to the ceiling and she was hanging in the air.

“Please…”

Arya froze. Right in front of her there was a man on the floor, someone’s tiny arms under him, also chained. With a twisted feeling in her guts she realized the man was having sex with the girl and she was weeping.

“Shut up,” the man uttered. Arya was horrified. The vulnerability and helplessness were choking her. Suddenly the man stopped, leaving the girl crying on the floor. Arya widened her eyes in shock. It was Blister! Only he hadn’t had any blisters on his face now. But how –“

“Up?” he asked and approached her. He was corpulent, with thin hair and small eyes, wearing a long, stained shirt.

“Let me go!” Arya found the courage to shout. “Let me go or my father will kill you!”

“Your father?” Blister sneered. “I can’t see him here. But I can see _you_.”

He took the lace of her working clothes and undid it, revealing her breasts. Arya breathed in to scream but he put a piece of cloth in her mouth.

“No screaming, you rat,” he said and looked at her breasts, licking his upper lip.

“Not a girl anymore, not a woman yet… That’s a very special time. Both a girl and a boy, ugly and beautiful the same.”

He held her left breast in his palm, squeezing it. Arya shut her eyes, groaning. He undid the straps on her pants and took them off, with Arya trembling in the freezing underground. He was watching her, obviously fascinated.

“Skinny…” he muttered. He ran his fingers down her skin and Arya closed her eyes in dread as he touched her between her legs. He started licking her breasts then, his fat tongue like a burning torch. Arya kicked his stomach.  

“You bitch!”

He punched her in the face.

“If you don’t like this, there are far worse things to come! You may be a vicious little bitch but you feel pain just like anybody else. And I will cause you a lot of pain. Let’s see how vicious you’ll be.”

He gave her a couple of more punches and Arya couldn’t regain her consciousness for a few minutes. When she did, she started to grasp the situation and she almost threw up. She wouldn’t mind dying by a sword so much as being raped till her last breath, chained like an animal.

_“I see a sack of corn riding a horse. Not a warrior.”_

_“Very funny!”_

_Arya was picking herself up from the ground._

_“Nuvian! Tsi ba’neth!” she shouted and Nuvian came back, letting her get back into the saddle. Jaqen prompted Sypherion and moved closer, placing a hand on her back and the other on her shoulder._

_“Find your balance, girl. Put your shoulders down, don’t bend forward, keep your chin up,” he said. “And try to do it all the time, not only for the first five seconds.”_

_Arya gave him a look and Jaqen’s eyes met hers._

_“What?” he asked. “Why is a girl always so angry when she hears the truth?”_

_“Who says I’m angry?”_

_“Your eyes,” Jaqen answered._

_“I’m not angry,” Arya disagreed, taking the reins. “I’m just thinking…”_

_“What is a girl thinking about?” Jaqen asked._

_“That it’s a hot evening…”_

_Before he could do anything, Arya squeezed Nuvian’s flanks and shouted: “Rym!”_

_Nuvian started running along the coastline. Arya longed to do this for a long time. She stopped her horse where sea was touching the sand and jumped down, hearing Sypherion just behind her back. Jaqen was watching her with a displeased look._

_“Now a girl is acting very childish,” he said, sounding almost bored. Arya started undressing and Jaqen turned his head away, rolling his eyes. Arya sunk into the refreshing water and let out a cry of joy. She swam and dived for a couple of minutes, enjoying the water washing the dirt and dust away. It seemed like ages since her last swimming._

_“I’m going out!” she shouted. “Don’t look!”_

_“I am not looking,” Jaqen muttered. He was sitting on the beach, waiting, wearing his annoyed face, meanwhile Nuvian and Sypherion were grazing nearby. Arya walked quickly to the pile of clothes._

_“A girl swims well,” Jaqen said and Arya yelped._

_“You said you wouldn’t be looking!”_

_But Jaqen had his eyes closed._

_“I’m not,” he said. “Why is a girl so afraid? Why is she afraid a man would see her naked?”_

_“Because… because…” Arya was thinking. Why exactly was it an issue? She saw_ him _naked before and it didn’t look like he’d mind._

_“Does a wolf wear pants and coats?” Jaqen asked while Arya was putting her shirt on._

_“It’d be embarrassing,” she said finally. Jaqen raised his eyebrows._

_“In which way? Is there something wrong with it? Is a wolf embarrassed for its claws or tail?”_

_“I don’t think my body is nice looking,” Arya murmured. “Not like my sister’s, for example.”_

_“A girl is wrong,” Jaqen said. “She will know that in time. She should be careful.”_

_“About what?” Arya asked, dressed. Jaqen opened his eyes and looked her up and down._

_“She is getting woman-like. Bit by bit.”_

_Arya was staring at him but he stood up calmly as usual and got up on his horse. Arya knew he was just stating, there was nothing more in his words. A simple statement and a simple advice. So why, why was she feeling so strange?_

Somebody slapped her. Arya blinked, confused. She saw a pair of dark eyes in front of her.

“Time to wake up,” the raspy voice said. He slid his fingers between her legs again and Arya winced with pain as she felt his fingers inside her.

“A maid? Like I thought. It’ll be my pleasure then.”

He kept moving his fingers inside her and she was shrieking into the cloth. He started licking her body again, leaving his saliva all over her, sucking her nipples and ears. But Arya was fighting hard against the chains, growling and kicking around.

“You’re wild. Like a beast.”

He punched her so hard she heard buzzing in her head. Suddenly she felt sharp pain on her hip. He cut her with a knife, evidently.

“Scream or fight again, rat,” he whispered into her ear. “And I’ll stick this knife into your little cunt!”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> OK, I would really want to know your opinion now. Drop a comment, please, the box is just a few clicks away. Thank you in advance!


	15. Chained II

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Part II - The Training

No mornings, no evenings, no time, just an endless night. Her arms were limp already, she was starving and thirsty. Dirty all over and with dried blood on her face and skin, with bruises on her belly and legs and cuts on her hips and arms. Even if he let her go she wouldn’t be able to move.

Last night Blister was raping the girl on the ground again but she hadn’t cried anymore and Arya knew she was dead. But nevertheless Blister kept raping her.

“Such a waste would be a blasphemy,” he was saying to her, raping her in front of her eyes.

“I’ve seen many rats like you before, always the same. Fighting first, crying after. Nothing can change that and I’ll break you soon. But it has its time, no need to rush it.”

Arya started dwelling in her mind to keep herself sane. She was returning to her childhood, to the days with her sister and brothers, the evenings her mother would read her tales or her father would teach her how to know an animal just by the shape of its footprint.

She was also thinking about Jaqen and remembering he said he’d come back in a couple of days. Had he been back already? He would have found her then, wouldn’t he? But maybe not even he could find her here. He was good indeed but he wasn’t omnipotent.

_“What are you doing?”_

_“Learning Tyroshi,” Arya answered. She was sitting in the kitchen by candle light, above a few parchments with Tyroshi phrases. Jaqen looked her over the shoulder._

_“This is wrong.”_

_He pointed at a word with his gloved finger._

_“Thanks.”_

_“You’re welcome.”_

_“Are you going to stay?” Arya wondered. Jaqen nodded._

_“Yes. A man isn’t working tonight.”_

_Arya grinned at him. She’d been alone for more than five days._

_“Why are you smiling?” Jaqen asked, suspicious. Arya shook her head._

_“_ Because _,” she said, with Jaqen still waiting for the answer._

_“We could talk for a while,” she explained. “I don’t have anyone to talk to, since you’ve forbidden me to have friends, you know.”_

_Jaqen gave her a sour look._

_“Fine,” he said slowly, sitting down to the table. “How was a girl’s day?”_

_Arya pouted._

_“You’re not really asking, Jaqen. You just want to get rid of me.”_

_“A man disagrees,” Jaqen protested, pretending she hurt his honor. “He always wants the answer when he asks…”_

_His eyes flashed._

_“Except the times he wants to get rid of an annoying girl.”_

_“Annoying?” she repeated but was too amused to be insulted._

_“We can try one thing,” she said. “I say a word and you say the first word that comes to your mind when my word is said.”_

_Jaqen was taking his gloves off slowly._

_“Sounds very boring.”_

_“It’s not. I start,” Arya said, looking at him over the candle light._

_“Horse,” Arya said._

_“Run.”_

_“Blood,” Arya said._

_“Pain.”_

_“King.”_

_“Subjection,” Jaqen said._

_“Power.”_

_“War.”_

_“Revenge,” Arya said._

_“Hate.”_

_“Sea.”_

_“Death.”_

_“Friend.”_

_“Loyalty.”_

_“Love,” Arya said, watching him hesitate for a split second._

_“Affection.”_

_“Girl.”_

_“Boy.”_

_“Wolf,” she said quickly._

_“You…” Jaqen answered smoothly. He lifted his head._

_“You call this a game?” he asked._

_“I never said it was a game,” Arya said slowly. “It was a way how to get some information.”_

_“About what?” Jaqen wanted to know and Arya shrugged._

_“About you. For example, now I know you don’t believe in kings, you think they abuse their power which leads to wars. You also don’t think revenge can bring real satisfaction or peace, only that it’s fueled by hate. And I think you do have some faith in friendship, otherwise you wouldn’t have said loyalty. On the other hand you don’t have particularly good view about love; you said affection in quite a cold manner. You see me more as a wolf than a girl; you think I’m more of a wild animal than a thirteen year old girl.”_

_Arya fell silent, stuck in Jaqen’s blue eyes. She could see, quite clearly, she made an impression. Jaqen was quiet for a couple more seconds as she was studying his face._

_“Was a girl right?” Arya asked, leaning a bit closer to him._

_“She was,” he agreed, almost like he didn’t want to admit it but didn’t want to lie._

_“I just don’t understand why you said death after sea. Why would sea mean death to you?”_

_“That,” Jaqen said, “is not a part of your game anymore.”_

“You think you can spend it all sleeping?”

Arya shrank. He was so close she could feel the sourish odor of his skin.

“It’s your time.”

He unchained her and she fell on the ground. She wanted to crawl but gasped with the overwhelming pain of her joints. He grabbed her and dragged her on the floor, stones tearing her skin. Leaving her on wet straw and murmuring a song, he took his pants off. Arya knew what was going to happen soon. She was completely conscious and completely paralyzed. She was screaming inside, the vision of this disgusting man’s cock inside her was making her sick and she felt waves of nausea washing over her.

“You’ll enjoy it. For some time.”

He fell on her and she widened her eyes, feeling like he crushed her every bone.

No… please, no… not like this…

Suddenly, the man gave a painful gasp. Arya looked up. Warm and comforting sensation slowly started spreading in her chest, like a merciful sea wave. She saw the pair of eyes she was praying for.

“I’m afraid _you_ won’t enjoy it,” Jaqen uttered in a grave tone, kicking the man so he rolled over. Jaqen walked over him with his sword, piercing Blister’s crotch in the deafening sound of his insane screaming.

In the following second Jaqen had already been bowing above her. He took the cloth out of her mouth and Arya breathed in deeply.

“Jaqen…”

Jaqen uncuffed her wrists and ankles and knelt down, wrapping his coat around her. He lifted her in his arms and Arya listened to his soothing voice.

“You are safe, lovely girl.”

But Arya heard no more. She was falling into the darkness. And suddenly, she was floating in the sea, facing the sky. There were thousands of stars there and a silver crescent of the moon. It was complete silence around except for the faint splashing of water. And when Arya looked closely at the sky, she saw the stars formed three wolves looking down at her.

It’s them, she thought. They can see me. And I can see them…

Arya closed her eyes and breathed in deeply, feeling as she was carried away. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> OK, I would really want to know your opinion now. Drop a comment, please, the box is just a few clicks away. Thank you in advance!


	16. Strong Heart

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Part II - The Training

 “Don’t move. Your joints are swollen; it will take a few days to heal.”

Arya blinked. She saw Jaqen’s blurred face above her and realized she was lying in her bed. Jaqen offered her a cup of water and she drank, avoiding his eyes. But she felt his look on her face.

“Did he rape you?” he asked, his voice quiet but boiling under the surface. She shook her head in disapproval.

“Did he touch you?”

She nodded, glancing at him. Jaqen’s eyes were hard and dark and she saw hate and anger in them.

“I tend to your wounds. They’re not festered. You’ll be fine.”

He hesitated.

“Do you know who the man was?” he asked then. “One of the most powerful priests of Tyrosh. He wore a disguise so people wouldn’t recognize him. You interfered with the boy; you let him know you are aware of what he does. So he had to silence you. He paid Leif to lure you out when I was gone.”

Arya wasn’t looking at him but with every word she felt worse.

“Your _friend_ Leif was his accomplice, seeking suitable girls or boys to fulfill his needs. He sold you out.”

Arya gulped, feeling the twisted ache in her guts again. She saw Jaqen move, walking to the door. She managed to grab his arm, hissing in pain.

“Don’t go, Jaqen…”

Jaqen stopped, turning over.

“I’m sorry,” she said. She knew it was her fault and wouldn’t deny it. Right at the moment she hated herself for being so naive and bringing that upon herself. She shouldn’t have interfered into the old man’s business. She shouldn’t have trusted a boy she’d known only for a few weeks.

She wasn’t going to cry but what she felt inside was far worse. The embarrassment and humiliation…

“A man is to blame,” Jaqen said and made her look at him.

“Foolishly he had mistaken a wolf with a young girl. Some things cannot be just told, they must be experienced. A girl lacked that experience, so she trusted someone without asking questions. She won’t do that again, though.”

Jaqen stroke her arm gently. Never before had he acted so sensitively.

“A wolf cub is still a wolf cub, no matter how smart, brave or strong.”

Arya wouldn’t take her eyes off him.

“This won’t happen again. A man swears.”

He bowed above her, placing a soft kiss on her forehead. Arya closed her eyes as she felt him breathe against her skin. She looked him in the eyes.

“I had a strange dream,” she whispered. “I was in the sea, looking at the stars.”

“That wasn’t a dream,” Jaqen said. “After I took you out, you were repeating _wash me_ , over and over again. That’s why I went to the sea with you.”

Arya suddenly remembered there were arms holding her in the water. Jaqen’s arms.

“Take me there, a girl was saying,” Jaqen continued. “Take me to them. They are waiting.”

Arya’s eyes were fixed upon his shadowed face when Jaqen spoke again.

“A man wouldn’t do that,” he said. “He wouldn’t let her go. Not today, he said.”

Arya spent the following days in her room, not going anywhere. The pain in her arms vanished but that one in her chest wouldn’t go away no matter how hard she tried. When she closed her eyes she was back in the cellar and when she heard a noise it was like the chains rattling again.

She was using that time for learning languages and studying maps to keep her mind occupied. She would sit by a candle for hours and very slowly, the dread from the time spent in the cellar would diminish. But something strange spread in her instead. Something empty and dark. And she knew – even then – it’d changed her. She knew for sure she wouldn’t be the same.

“Lovely girl.”

Arya turned, peeking over the gloomy room. Jaqen was in the door.

“Come.”

Arya stood up. She was wearing new clothes Jaqet got her, black and close-fitting, with quite a few belts and clips. She felt safer in such clothes. Jaqen was waiting for her outside, already in Sypherion’s saddle. Arya got up on Nuvian and they went to the city gate and further away. Arya sensed the sea breeze against her face, like she did thousand times before, yet it felt different that night.

When they stopped, there was a beach on her right and a small olive grove on her left. It was the furthest point of the Tyrosh isle. They had trained here once. Although Tyrosh people preferred staying inside the city walls, sometimes they crossed their path and they had to look for another private place to train.

Arya followed Jaqen into the olive grove. She could see something moving behind the trees. Jaqen turned over his shoulder and his eyes looked into hers. There was a hint of hesitation in the blue orbs but then Jaqen laid a hand on the hilt of his sword and drew it out, handling the weapon to her.

Arya raised her eyebrows, taking it. Then she heard a voice in the trees. A weeping, crying voice. Arya took a few steps further, leaving Jaqen behind. Soon she saw a man, his arms tied to a branch above his head. With a stab of pain she recognized it was Blister. He was apparently at the end of his strength, his naked body full of cuts and dried blood. It must have been Jaqen who did that to him.

Blister saw her and widened his eyes.

“You!” he said, his voice weak. “Let me go! I swear I won’t – “

A strong wave of hate and disgust washed over Arya, the power of hate was overwhelming. She felt such rage, such uncontrollable rage. She didn’t remember how she got so close but she was standing there with Jaqen’s sword in the man’s chest. She stared into his eyes and watched his life slipping away. She thrust the sword deeper into his flesh and listened to the agonic scream. She pulled the sword down, slicing him, his screams getting animal-like.

And then it was only silence. The man was hanging there, lifeless. Arya felt the warm blood on her arms. And a strange kind of coolness came with it.

When she slowly turned over, she saw Jaqen standing behind her. He was holding Leif, the boy kicking and screaming, trying to get out of the grasp. But Jaqen’s hand held him firmly.

Arya looked at him absently. Leif was pleading, calling her name over and over again.

“Cyra, help me. Tell him. Please, Cyra! Please!”

“Let him go,” she said and Jaqen released him. Leif immediately fled away. Arya got up on Nuvian, going after him. Her horse was fast and she caught up with Leif in a couple of seconds. He glanced at her with dread in his eyes. She swung with the sword, slitting his throat.

After he fell on the ground, Arya stopped the horse, breathing out. She closed her eyes for a moment, letting the shivering go away. She hadn’t almost noticed Jaqen coming, taking back his sword from her hand.

“Jaqen…”

She called the assassin’s name after they let the sea take the dead and were standing side by side on the beach.

“When does a wolf become a monster?” she asked, watching the dark horizon.

“At the moment it forgets it’s a wolf,” Jaqen said. “A wolf hunts, a wolf kills, a wolf remembers and pays back. A wolf protects the cubs. For a wolf there is prey and prey is either food or a threat. A wolf respects other creatures. A wolf claims only what is rightfully its. A wolf can see the border.”

Jaqen paused for a while.

“A monster just destroys. Wastes lives. Kills for the sake of killing.”

“What if…”

Arya fell silent. She saw this black hole could easily swallow her whole.

“How should a wolf remember?”

Jaqen turned sideways, moving closer to her. She withdrew slightly but stood her ground, tilting her head back just a little as he leaned above her. She saw herself in his eyes. The assassin placed his palm on the left side of Arya’s chest. Her heart shivered under his touch.

“A girl thinks there is a black abyss growing inside, eating her.”

Arya half-opened her mouth, completely speechless, hanging on every single word he said.

“It’s not an abyss,” Jaqen continued, “but a wound. A girl has been hurt a lot so the pain is burning. Deaths of those who hurt her are like falling snow. The scars are permanent but the pain will ease off under the snow.”

Jaqen lowered even more, his hair tickling Arya’s face. He was almost touching her neck with his lips and he spoke softly right into her ear.

“There is a strong heart,” he whispered. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> OK, I would really want to know your opinion now. Drop a comment, please, the box is just a few clicks away. Thank you in advance!


	17. Game

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Part II - The Training

That was a very, very hot day. Most of the Tyrosh people were inside their stone houses or came on the city beaches, some of them took a seat on the city promenade with a view at the sea, glimmering in sun light.

Arya was standing in the mouth of a long and lively street leading from the center of the city to the promenade. She wiped the sweat from her forehead and narrowed her eyes against the sun to look at Jaqen. He was leaning against a pillar, wearing light clothes in dark blue color, the tips of it floating in the breeze. Despite the beauty of the scenery, his eyes remained hard when focused on the sea.

“A girl is watching me so closely…” he uttered without turning his head. Arya coughed.

“I wasn’t… actually looking, I was…”

Jaqen hadn’t been paying any attention anymore, though.

“It’s such a nice day,” Arya said. “The sea is like silver.”

“Looks plain to me,” Jaqen said almost inaudibly and Arya raised her eyebrows.

“Do you remember our little game with the words, long ago?” Jaqen asked then.

“Yes… Do you want to play again?”

“Not that kind of a game,” Jaqen said. “But my game. Game of shadows and imagination. And I want you to play it.”

“Fine,” Arya said. “What is it?”

After he told her, Arya was staring in front of her, shaking her head.

“This is impossible.”

“Impossible?” Jaqen repeated. “I wouldn’t expect such a word coming from your mouth.”

Arya frowned.

“How in seven hells am I supposed to do that?”

“Well,” Jaqen said, “I think that’s clear, lovely girl. I want you to go to that noble woman over there and I want you to bring her a cup of water. Act like you are her servant all the time.”

“What about the other servants?” Arya didn’t understand. “They’ll know right at the moment they look at me.”

“You would be surprised, wolf-girl, how easy it is to make your face practically invisible.”

“But – “

“Nothing happens to you,” he said and finally looked at her. “A man swore, did he not? Had the man done anything to devalue his promise?”

“No,” Arya said, looking at the dress Jaqen got her to wear over her regular dress to look like a servant. She watched the woman in front of her. She was sitting on a wooden seat, looking at the sea. Many people were passing by the promenade, their colorful robes bright in the afternoon sun. The woman was wearing pink and was surrounded by at least seven or eight servant girls fetching her water or fruits or waving with fans around her face.

“The key is conviction. Be calm. You are playing a role; the role is a servant girl of that woman over there. _You are_ the servant girl from now on, so go and bring your lady a cup of water.”

Arya didn’t want to back off in front of Jaqen, so she started walking towards the woman. She lowered her eyes as she approached the water jug. She poured the water into a cup. Two or three servant girls looked at her but their eyes shifted away soon, disinterested.

“Your water, my lady,” Arya said silently and the woman turned her head a bit, looking into her face. There was a moment of silence.

“Thank you, girl,” the lady said eventually. “It’s really hot today. I’d like some grapes.”

“Yes, my lady.”

Arya brought her a plate with grapes and while the woman was eating, other servants started waving with fans. And in the same way she mingled among them she vanished, taking the clothes off behind a corner.

“Very good…” Jaqen said, jumping off a small wall and walking away. Arya felt herself smile.  

“I didn’t think I’d – “

“You didn’t but you still became a shadow for a while. This was an easier situation than most of them but still, you were a shadow.”

Arya’s smile widened.

“I like being a shadow…”

They walked to the Tyrosh harbor Arya visited often. She was listening to people’s talks when new ships arrived, to sailors bringing news from the world, especially the events in Westeros. Sometimes she was also there waiting for Jaqen’s ship, although she could never say which one that would be.

Arya hadn’t noticed how but Jaqen slipped her sight and was gone. He did that occasionally and would come home later, days later in a few cases, but still she couldn’t quite understand how he could do that. Vanish just like that. Wasn’t magic involved, after all?

She was also still trying to take him by surprise but even if she was absolutely sure there was no way she could walk quieter, Jaqen always just smirked and gave her _that_ look, saying: “Next time, lovely girl.”

At the city market, Arya stopped at the fruit stand with pomegranates and bought the most beautiful and biggest one. She had some money since she’d returned to Dragon’s Head a couple of months ago. Although she was very reluctant to go, Jaqen persuaded her at last.

_“Once you don’t face your demons, they start controlling you. If something hurts you, your response is fighting and defeating the demons. It is the only way, lovely girl.”_

Back in the house she went to the stables, feeding the horses. Sypherion was still there which meant Jaqen hadn’t left. She met him outside, washing his hands in the water well. The sun was low and shadows crept over the courtyard. But they seemed much darker in Jaqen’s frowning face.

“Disappeared again, huh?” Arya remarked. “Are we training tonight?”

“If you wish…”

“Of course!” she said. “I want to train! Every second of my free time.”

Jaqen shook his head, murmuring: “Your energy is admirable.”

Arya sat down on the edge of the well, watching him.

“Is something bothering you?” he asked her, his voice getting a little annoyed.  

“Nothing in particular…” she shrugged. “But something’s bothering _you_. No, no, don’t try to deny it. I can see it. And I suppose you won’t tell me, right?”

Jaqen didn’t answer indeed and Arya sighed and took the pomegranate out of her pocket.

“For you,” she said.

“Why?”

“I know you like it. Over any other, even over apples. I’m not so ignorant, you know.”

Jaqen took the fruit, looking at it and then back at Arya.

“Gifts weren’t a part of your oath.”

“And that changes anything?” Arya asked. “I only wanted to give it to you, there’s nothing behind it. I don’t want a new dress or sword. It’s a gift, that’s all.”

Jaqen could obviously see that wasn’t entirely true but his expression turned into slight amusement.

“A man thanks you, lovely girl.”

Arya nodded, adding a smile.

“It was a girl’s pleasure.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hope you liked. Drop a comment, please, the box's not so far away. Thank you :-)


	18. At The Market

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Part II - The Training

Tyroshi people usually had _money_ written in their eyes, in the expensive clothes and jewels and the fat bellies and sweaty foreheads. One such a man was at a stand with pear brandy, deciding how many bottles to buy.

“I want to try this one.”

The salesman poured him a small glass.

“This is the best brandy in the city,” he said and gave it to him. He drank a bit and spat it all out. He started shouting at the salesman with anger, while a small girl nearby, hidden behind an olive tree, covered her mouth to silence her laughter. It was surprisingly easy to steal the bottle and replace it with one filled with sea water. In this way, the city market was the best place to practice. Arya was changing her appearance often, wearing different clothes or making different hair-styles, since her hair grew much longer. She wanted to cut it but Jaqen told her not to.

“Long hair is much more versatile,” he said.

He visited the market with her several times but it was no ordinary shopping tour. As they were walking by all the sorts of stands selling fruits, vegetables, perfumes, clothes, weapons, jewelry, amulets and sacred objects, herbs or spices, there were really few stands where Jaqen wouldn’t find something useful.

“If you mix this fruit’s juice and this oil, you have a poison that makes people hallucinate…”

“Dip this hair-clip in poison and you have a beautiful death gift.”

“Combine this root with this fish’s bile. It causes sleep so deep it appears the person is dead.”

“Put these flowers into boiling water and if you drink it, your eyes change color for a couple of hours.”

“Peels of this apple can lessen fever.”

“This kind of spice when put into sea water makes the water red as blood.”

Arya shook her head. By the time they left the market, she knew hardly half of it.

“Sometimes, the combination of things perfectly safe causes a very strong weapon,” Jaqen said then. “It’s useful to know that.”

“But hard to remember,” Arya said. Nevertheless, she started trying all kinds of experiments behind the stables in their house. Sometimes she was so absorbed in it she forgot to go to bed. She was using insect or mice for her experiments and people as well, in some cases. She created red, green and blue paint and drew a few symbols on Nuvian and Sypherion, blue on her black horse and red on Jaqen’s white.

“A man has to ask, lovely girl,” Jaqen said one day, walking out of the stables with Sypherion, “why is his horse wearing a red mustache.”

Arya laughed.

“I thought he’d look good. Charming, isn’t he?”

Jaqen sighed while washing it down with a wet cloth.

That afternoon when Arya was going through the market, she saw something that made her blood rush.

“That’s mine,” she said to the salesman reflexively. He gave her a look.

“What did you say?”

“That’s – “she stopped in shock. She saw a silver buckle from a horse’s bridle that had a wolf head carved in the middle.

“Where is this from?” she asked instead, holding her breath.

“From a burned castle in Westeros,” the salesman said.

“Burned…? But where did you get it? Who gave it to you?”

“Why do you ask?” he said with suspicions. “Are you from Westeros? Seems to me you know exactly the castle this is from.”

“No, I… I read about the symbol of a wolf’s head in an old book so I wondered…”

“Keep wondering then,” the salesman said. “Buy it or go.”

The price of the buckle was triple the amount of money she had and after a few minutes of bargaining she knew it was useless and went home. She wasn’t interested in any activity she usually enjoyed doing, so she was sitting on the bench outside the house, staring. Winterfell burned. Her home lost in fire and smoke. Her brothers most probably dead. Who was left? Only her and Sansa? What if Sansa was dead as well? How could she know?

“Damn!”

It was the fourth time she fell off the horse while training and Jaqen snorted with displeasure, watching her standing up.

“It seems like you’ve forgotten all the months of training over one night,” he said. Arya didn’t even look at him.

“I don’t want to train with horses,” she said. Jaqen jumped off Sypherion, gesturing his arms.

“As you wish… Attack me.”

She tried it twice unsuccessfully, the third time she earned a painful blow by the side of Jaqen’s sword. She yelped, closing her eyes. Jaqen lowered his sword.

“This is worse than the very first day of your training,” he said. “A man doesn’t understand.”

Arya was frowning, massaging her arm. She glanced at him and eventually told him about the thing at the market. Jaqen listened closely and nodded slowly.

“I hate that I’m not there! I want to punish them all, before somebody else does.”

“A man understands now,” Jaqen said. “A girl is angry, she wants justice. She won’t get any if the thought of it upsets her so she forgets how to do it. A girl should make an advantage of it. The thought of it should push her further, not lower to the ground.”

Jaqen raised his eyebrows then, pointing his sword at her.

“Now, will you attack me again or we are going back?”

Arya narrowed her eyes slightly. She took a deep breath and their swords clashed. Images of Winterfell in flames kept appearing in front of her eyes but she was able to put them aside. Revenge will be hers. But if she rushes things, she ends up dead before anything actually happens. She will hold on, she’ll be patient and then… When the right time comes… The wolf strikes!

Jaqen widened his eyes as she struck him with her sword. For a short moment he couldn’t hide his surprise. Arya stood there, breathing heavily.

“Well?” she asked. “Has a girl understood?”

“Oh, she has indeed,” Jaqen said, smirking.

Arya felt considerably better and fell asleep soon. If she was afraid she’d gone astray, she was back in the saddle. Patience was what she needed to learn. Jaqen wouldn’t be training her if he didn’t believe in her revenge. He wouldn’t waste all his time like that. He believed in her. How come she’d never realized what it really meant? Jaqen knew she’d make it eventually; he knew she was good enough and revenge would be hers once.

That night Arya was sleeping with a small smile on her lips. And when she woke up the next day, there was something lying on her bed table, something she definitely didn’t put there. A silver buckle for a horse’s bridle with a carved wolf’s head.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hope you liked. Drop a comment, please, the box's not so far away. Thank you :-)


	19. Storyteller

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Part II - The Training

“I’m leaving for a longer time, wolf-girl. I trust you can take care of yourself now.”

Arya was with Jaqen in the harbor, watching a big ship approaching. It was an unusually cloudy, sunless day and yet she was frowning.

“How long?” she asked finally.

“A month. Maybe two,” he said and she couldn’t hide her surprise. Two months?

“But… what am I going to do? What about the training and… everything…?”

“You can train on your own until I come back,” Jaqen said calmly, watching her. “You can learn languages without me. You work so you have enough money for food. You know how to stay safe, avoid danger or recognize a threat. You know many things now, wolf-girl.”

Arya knew he was right but still didn’t like it.

“I’ll be alone,” she added. Jaqen tilted his head a little.

“A girl is ready to be,” he said. “For a while. And she can talk to people.”

She looked at him.

“But you said – “

“That was more than a year ago,” he said. “You didn’t know what you know now. You won’t make the same mistake again. You also know how to get the information you need about people. It’s up to you what you tell them about yourself. We won’t stay in Tyrosh much longer.”

“Why can’t I go with you, I’d – “

“A man goes alone,” Jaqen said and there wasn’t any space for arguing.

“You swore you wouldn’t leave me behind…” she said.

“I’m not leaving you behind,” Jaqen assured her. “I will come back for you. That I swear. The only thing you must do is to wait,” he said.

Arya finally accepted that and nodded.

“Have a safe journey, Jaqen,” she said.

Arya continued with her training, leaving almost no time for anything else. Soon she wondered why she’d been upset about being alone. She didn’t have any time for friends anyway. She started befriending Jaqen’s horse instead, he didn’t take Sypherion with him and Arya had a new mission – tame Sypherion before Jaqen’s return. It was a wild animal, although he could stand her near, he didn’t particularly like her in the saddle.

When she felt really sad or low, she went down to the promenade that was exceptionally lively in the evenings and nights, with magicians or comedians performing their arts. But she liked the storytellers the most. She was listening to the adventures of old kings and queens, tales about sea beasts and dragons and magic and miracles.

“There are wonders in the world you have no idea about,” the storyteller was saying while people gathered around him, some of them sitting on the pavement, some of them on low walls, some of them standing.

“Shape-shifting, people with the gift of future seeing, dark curses, men changing faces…”

Arya widened her eyes.

“Tell us about them!”

The storyteller fell silent and gave her a look, just like everybody around, turning at her. Arya felt herself blush a little.

“What did you say, little girl?” the storyteller asked. “Do you know a faceless man?”

“That’s a stupid question,” Arya said, smirking. “How can you know a man who changes his face?”

The man laughed.

“True, true…”

“Tell us about the faceless men,” Arya repeated. “My father used to tell me about them but I never really understood what it meant.”

“Oh…”

People’s attention returned to the old man.

“The Faceless Men are an old guild of assassins. They keep their secrets among them, share it with no one. Their price is so high sometimes not even kings can afford their services. They also believe that there is only one god, but under different names and that this god is death itself. They train so long and so hard there isn’t a man or a woman in this known world they wouldn’t be able to track down and kill.”

“But who are they?” Arya wanted to know. “Slaves or free people?”

“They become members of the order by their own will,” the storyteller said. “But they have to prove their worth in numerous tasks so difficult they usually don’t survive through the first. They are rewarded, though, with abilities a normal man can only dream of.”

“What abilities?”

“They can change their faces at will. They also don’t age like we do; they live longer and age slower. Once their training is finished, they become so dangerous they don’t have an equal in this world. But… here comes the price.”

“Price?” Arya repeated. The old man nodded.

“There’s always a price, little girl. In exchange for their abilities, their loyalty to the order is absolute. No family, no children, no home. Because they are so lethal, the order must control them. Imagine a few such men would join, they would be unstoppable. They can never leave the order, under no circumstances. If they disobey, the punishment is always death and the possibility to return none. So, in a way, they are free slaves or slaved free men, as you put it.”

The storyteller paused for a moment or two, wetting his lips.  

“It is said the face-shifting is bought up for their hearts and souls. It is said they are no longer men but they are shadows of men, they are no-ones, because they forgot their true faces.”

Arya shook her head as the story was bringing coldness into her heart.

“But who would want such a life?” she asked. “They wouldn’t have any happiness from it.”

“Faceless Men don’t seek happiness. Only those who lost everything and gave up their lives become faceless,” the storyteller said.

“They want power. They are given power but they belong to the order forever. And if they betray the order, they truly are no-one… But,” the storyteller raised his voice a bit, “that wouldn’t happen. Faceless Men worship the order and their Many-Faced God above everything. And they have no hearts so they cannot betray because of a common man’s weaknesses.”

Arya didn’t sleep that night at all. She was lying in her bed, facing the ceiling, and there was one single question repeating in her head over and over again. Why? Why her? Why was she so important to him he left everything behind. Why her? 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hey, thanks for all the kudos, glad you like, I appreciaaaaaate that. Been making up a bit in this one, but nothing in contrary to GOT universe I think, just filling some missing pieces. My job is quite a time-eater but I hope to keep this updated regularly. Bye, bye :-)  
> (Listening to Puscifer while writing, very specific:-)


	20. Absence

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Part II - The Training

One month passed, two months passed, three months passed and Jaqen had still been gone. Arya was doing all she could to keep her worries away. So he was late, but he would come back, he promised…

But as time went on and the fourth month passed without him showing up, she couldn’t keep the fear away any longer. All sorts of questions were bothering her mind every day, every minute, every second.

There wasn’t an evening she wouldn’t go to the harbor to look at arrived ships. He wasn’t on any of them. She knew about the happening in Westeros and Essos, she knew about Daenerys Targaryen and her three dragons, she knew about the big royal wedding of Margaery Tyrell and Joffrey Baratheon. People at the Dragon’s Head were chatting about the Greyjoy treachery and Sansa’s and Tyrion’s marriage. But how could she hear about a faceless man?

_Excuse me but haven’t you heard about a man who can look like thousands other people and have thousands different names?_

Arya was walking on the promenade that evening, enjoying the sea breeze that was soothing her mind. She stopped, watching the horizon with the setting sun.

Why would he give up everything just for her? What was in for him?

What did Jaqen really want…?

_“Girl’s steps are light as wind but a man can still hear her.”_

_“Fine, fine,” Arya sighed. “Say your_ next time _, next time. Will be enough…”_

_“It seemed a little overused to me,” Jaqen said, walking across the courtyard where she wanted to surprise him from behind the stable._

_“How was a girl’s day?” he asked and this time there was sincerity in his voice._

_“Quite normal,” Arya said. “I was studying, grooming the horses, washing vomits from the floor. Normal.”_

_“Good,” Jaqen said, evidently slightly amused by the irony in her tone. “A man knew you’d eventually find liking in it.”_

_“You were right, I can’t have enough,” Arya agreed, smirking. She sat down on the well edge._

_“And how was your day?”_

_“Also normal.”_

_“Which means you’ve killed a bunch of people or stole the king’s crown. Or both.”_

_“I certainly didn’t do that,” Jaqen said and Arya grimaced at him._

_“Well, when you don’t say anything, I start imagining things. There’s also a very interesting possibility, which is that you only pretend you’re leaving to do some highly important business but actually you’re going into the Pink Shell.”_

_Pink Shell was Tyrosh’s largest brothel. Jaqen pierced her with his eyes. Arya spread her arms._

_“How can I know what you’re doing?”_

_“I wouldn’t go to the Pink Shell unless it was a matter of life and death,” he uttered and Arya laughed._

_“Why?” she asked. “Two hundreds men going there every day speak quite differently. Don’t tell me there isn’t at least one woman to fit your needs…”_

_Arya couldn’t stop giggling when she saw the extremely sour look Jaqen gave her._

_“A man then?” she said in an innocent voice. A very crooked smirk appeared on Jaqen’s lips._

_“A girl was too long alone,” he said silently. He moved forward fast and Arya hissed with surprise when he grabbed her and turned upside down in the air._

_“Laughing?” Jaqen said, his voice teasing. “Maybe I should tie you like this to the doorframe.”_

_“Oh, you wouldn’t do that,” Arya growled. “I would have my revenge on you then.”_

_“I bet you would – If I let you down,” Jaqen said sarcastically but indeed let her down. Arya stood up, dizzy a little when blood rushed into her head. Jaqen’s smirk softened and he brushed the hair from her eyes with his gloved hand._

Arya watched the sun sink into the sea. She found Jaqen extremely laid back that day and she was enjoying it a lot.

She sighed and went to work. It was a long shift, or it seemed longer than usual. Arya was annoyed by every single person in the pub. By that point she had already known about almost every habit or quirk of the regular guests of Dragon’s Head. She knew the meaning behind every gesture, ear-scratching or smirk. And beside other things she came to the unpleasant conclusion that people were mostly pretentious rogues thinking only of themselves.

If that was the lesson she was supposed to learn, it wasn’t an optimistic one.

After work she stopped by to pick up Ithe, a girl she met at the market. Ithe gave her a few apples for free when her mother didn’t look. They met occasionally and talked. Arya wouldn’t reveal anything vital to her but enjoyed the simple blather sometimes.

They were on their way to the Moonlight Palace where the famous Fire dancers were performing that night.

The palace was already full of people. Fire dancers were a real sensation, it seemed like the whole city was there. The drums started playing and other instruments Arya had never heard before. Suddenly, about twenty women appeared on stage, all curvy and tall, with long black hair and almost no clothes on. They started dancing in a way that caught the eye of every man but women couldn’t take their eyes away either. Even Arya stared at them with awe. And a completely new thought started occupying her mind. A thought of a quite disturbing character.

Maybe that was the reason Fire dancers had been so popular, because they were awaking such thoughts in people. But Arya was scared by the way she felt. It was so unlike her. It wasn’t her. She never wanted this. Her preferences laid elsewhere.

So why in seven hells couldn’t she get this out of her head? And why, she was asking over and over again, it was _him_ who she saw in front of her eyes.


	21. On Her Own

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Part II - The Training

_“You really don’t like sea much, do you?”_

_“Do I have to?”_

_“No… but most people find it quite nice…”_

_Arya was walking out of the water on the sand beach while Jaqen was again sitting on a stone waiting for her. He didn’t have his eyes closed but wouldn’t look at her until she was dressed._

_“A man is not like most people,” he said quietly._

_“So what are you like, then?” Arya asked, curious. Jaqen gave her a side look._

_“I’m no-one, as I told you.”_

_“If you’re no-one, who am I talking to?” Arya asked. “Is it Jaqen H’ghar or is it you? Because it’s either the first or the other but I’m definitely talking to someone.”_

_“A girl uses words as her weapons,” Jaqen said._

_“I’m only asking,” Arya said, sitting in front of him to the sand. “Because I want to know.”_

_“It’s like drawing in wet sand when your picture is erased by the sea. It’s like unweaving your dress to make a new one._ _It’s like a vase you can repaint numerous times, making it new every time.”_

_“But,” Arya said, thinking, “if that is true, what about your mind? Or heart? That stays still the same.”_

_Jaqen was silent, merely looking at her and Arya couldn’t say if he just didn’t want to tell her or didn’t know the answer._

_“If you put all the masks aside, who would you be? Don’t tell me you’d be no-one, you wouldn’t just disappear. Who would you be?”_

_But Jaqen didn’t want to listen any longer. He stood up, his eyes covering with coldness._

_“More training, less talking.”_

In the evening of the 2178th day in Tyrosh, Arya was working as usual, serving and washing the floor, ignoring shouting drunks and their whores. She got up to go change the dirty water when she bumped into an older bearded man.

“Watch out, girl,” he said. Arya just gave him a look, walking away, but she could feel he kept looking after her. And she didn’t like it.

For the rest of her shift she saw him looking at her from his table and was glad when it was time to go. She rushed home and locked the gate behind her. She’d made just a few steps when she heard his voice behind the gate.

“What’s your name, girl?” the man asked. Arya was silent.

“You better tell me or I’m going to make a terrible mistake.”

“I’m Cyra,” Arya said immediately.

“Oh… I see… And when exactly did you change your name, Arya Stark?”

Arya widened her eyes in shock and her breathing got faster.

“Won’t you let me in?” he asked.

“Are you alone?”

“Yes… so far, though.”

Arya waited, listening. She certainly heard only his breathing and nobody else’s, so she unlocked the gate and let him in. She looked at him. A drunk fatty, going bald, most probably suffering from joints ache. She didn’t know him but evidently, he did.

“How –“

“I was there when Robert Baratheon visited Winterfell,” the man said, not taking his eyes off her.

“And I remember all Ned Stark’s children. Including you, Arya Stark.”

Arya narrowed her eyes.

“Tell me what you want,” she asked. He titled his head a little and she saw the flash in his eyes.

“I think you know the price on your head. You are quite a treasure…”

The man looked her up and down and nodded to himself.

“And you’ve grown! I remember you as a small annoying child who liked playing with a knife.”

“I still do,” Arya uttered and the man chuckled.

“So… It seems to me you’re all alone here, right? My plan is to take the first ship to Westeros, where I’ll return you to King’s Landing.”

Arya didn’t say a word, all sorts of things mixing in her head.

“I hope you’re not thinking about fighting me! Maybe I’m not the youngest but I still can beat a girl like you.”

He leaned closer to her.

“And who knows, maybe we’ll find something we both would like… What do you think?”

He grabbed her arm tightly and she saw his other arm reaching for her chest. She felt a painful rush of hate. She kicked his knee and he screamed in pain. In a split second Arya drew her knife and before he could see what was happening, he had the knife stuck in his neck. Falling on the ground gurgling blood, he was trying to press his hands against the wound and stop the blood from flowing away.

“I’ve found that thing right now,” Arya said silently, standing above him. “Only I’m afraid you don’t really like it very much.”

Arya managed to put the man over Nuvian and she took him out of the city to put his body to the sea. After that she sat down on the beach and watched the sea in sunrise. What a coincidence the man’s presence in the pub she was working in was. How much – in reality – everybody’s life was influenced by coincidences such as this one. Had the man come a few months ago, she wouldn’t have been able to do anything to stop it.

And what if he told someone anyway? Should she be expecting ten men in her house waiting for her? She definitely wouldn’t overpower them. But what were her other options? Wait by the sea or live on the streets in disguise like a beggar?

Arya sighed and bowed her head. Did he decide to leave her? Or was he dead? Did somebody pay him to betray her?

Will he ever come back? 


	22. Believe me

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Part II - The Training

Was that really her? She should definitely look into the mirror more often or she wouldn’t recognize herself at all…

It was late in the evening when Arya came back from her desert practicing and decided to get some sleep. She wasn’t sleeping much these days but funnily, she didn’t even miss it much. Somehow she’d learned how to get the most from a few hours and it seemed enough for her.

There was a small mirror in her room. Arya hadn’t used it before; she almost didn’t know it was there. That evening she found herself staring at her own image and she had to say she hadn’t known this person any more. She still had the same big rounded eyes but the rest was unfamiliar. She saw her face was elongated and her skin still pale despite the Tyrosh sun. Her hair was dark and quite messy. She opened her mouth to see her teeth. White and sharp. She really looked like a wolf, she thought.

_“I want to be a wolf when I’m older…”_

_“A wolf?” her father repeated. “Why?”_

_“A wolf is strong. And wild. And feared…”_

_“But a wolf is lonely too,” her father said, laying her to bed. Arya looked him in the eyes._

_“But a wolf is free, father,” she said. “A wolf can do whatever it pleases to do.”_

_“Can’t you do that, my daughter?” he asked softly. Arya shook her head._

_“Not really and you know that… Once I come of age, you will marry me to whoever seems suitable.”_

_Her father frowned._

_“I never said I would.”_

_“You never said you wouldn’t,” Arya said. “Can you promise me when I come of age you would let me do whatever I want?”_

_Her father was silent. He stroke her hair._

_“I want the best for you, Arya. I want you to have a good man, lands to rule over, with deep woods to hunt in; I want you to be happy. I can promise you to do all that’s in my power to fulfill it. And you can always come to me, Arya; I won’t make a decision unless we talk. I’m not saying I would always do it your way, but I won’t ignore you.”_

_He kissed her forehead._

_“You_ are _a wolf, Arya,” he said silently into her ear._

Arya opened her eyes, deep in thoughts. Oh, she missed her father. If only he knew what was happening… Maybe it was for the best he couldn’t. She wasn’t about to complain about her current situation, but it certainly wasn’t anything her father would wish for. She couldn’t use her name, the king wanted her head, there were no lands, no woods, no house, no man –

“What does a girl see in the mirror?”

Arya widened her eyes in shock. She saw him in the reflection, standing behind her.

“Jaqen!”

She turned and jumped up from the chair. Firstly she was extremely happy and in the following second a strange kind of anger washed over her and she rushed forward with narrowed eyes.

“Where have you been?! Where?! Tell me! Tell me!”

She was shaking him violently, never before feeling so upset with such a range of different kinds of emotions. He didn’t fight her until she eased and stepped back, looking him in the eyes she hadn’t seen for so long.

“I thought – “

“I know,” Jaqen said. “There were complications.”

He kept watching her for a moment and then gestured her to follow. It was a warm night when they were sitting in front of the house. Jaqen was leaning against the wall with his eyes closed and Arya brought him a cup of wine and some food.

“Are you alright?” she asked. Jaqen merely nodded. Arya told him about the man who recognized her and Jaqen listened closely.

“You did that right,” he said. “But we must leave anyway.”

“Fine, where?”

“Nowhere,” Jaqen said, drinking the wine slowly. “There is no safe place for us. We can’t stay anywhere until your training is finished.”

“And then what?”

“Then we’ll part, lovely girl,” Jaqen said. Arya knew that was the last thing she’d want.

“Many people in Westeros want you dead or captured, wolf-girl,” Jaqen said then. “Some of them even hire assassins to do that…”

Arya looked him in the eyes. Suddenly she understood.

“You were hired to kill me? Who hired you?”

“A woman that claims she can see the future,” Jaqen answered. “And apparently saw your future that didn’t make her very happy.”

Arya was staring at him.

“What… what did she see?”

“She didn’t tell me…”

Arya was thinking about it for a few minutes.

“You broke this deal, right?” she looked at him. “So you had to accept it first.”

Jaqen opened his eyes.

“A man broke the deal and killed the man who was supposed to do it instead.”

Arya was just sitting there, motionless, thinking. He accepted so at one point he was decided to kill her. Arya lowered her eyes to the ground. She didn’t really know what to think about it. Suddenly, Jaqen stood up and crouched in front of her.

“A man would never hurt you,” he said in a low tone and Arya was lost in his eyes again.

“He swore and he meant it. He broke the deal because he found out he couldn’t do it.”

Jaqen took her head into his hands and Arya half-opened her mouth, her heart racing.

“Do you believe me?” he asked and the only thing Arya managed was a small nod. Evidently, that was enough. Jaqen’s lips curled into a faint smile and he stood up slowly.

“Good,” he said. “Get up, wolf-girl. It’s time for practice.”  


	23. Woman

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Part II - The Training

The combined kind of training was Arya’s most favorite and also the most difficult. It was mixing combat, swords, horse riding and archery and was twice as exhausting as doing one such a thing at a time.

“A girl is too slow…”

Arya narrowed her eyes, moving faster. She was blocking Jaqen’s sword with hers, grunting when he disarmed her and the sword fell in sand. Arya caught a glimpse of a smirk in his face and growled, slipping under his arms. They continued with hand-to-hand combat.

“Hit harder,” Jaqen said. He was looking her in the eyes most of the time, his moves precise as usual. He was wearing black clothes that night, which made him even less defined. 

Arya wanted to hit him but he caught her wrist. She pulled out from the grasp, moving quickly, striking him with her forearm.

“Good…”

Arya was breathing heavily and sweat was running down her face. She saw Jaqen’s eyes glimmering with moonlight and heard her own heart beating.

“Still too slow, though,” Jaqen said when he easily deflected her kick. But Arya wasn’t able to move any faster. She felt weak and started hearing buzzing sounds in her head.

“Watch your left side.”

He hit her and Arya gasped with pain. Jaqen’s shadowed figure was getting blurry. She blinked slowly, rubbing her eyes. She saw him stop and stay still, watching her. Arya gulped, her throat dry.

“I… feel strange, Jaqen…” she murmured.

“Tired?”

Arya nodded, but actually felt like fainting any moment. It must have been evident from her face because Jaqen didn’t make any teasing joke about it at all; he was giving her a look of concern instead.

“Enough for tonight,” he said then. “A girl should rest.”

Arya nodded, making an exception in not arguing with him. She was having rather bizarre dreams at night, with talking dragons, strange looking ships, black sea, dungeons and chains and Jaqen’s voice following her. She woke up early in the morning, feeling even weaker than before. She sat up on the bed, sighing. Suddenly, she felt something suspicious.

“Oh no, I didn’t…”

She tossed the blanket aside and widened her eyes. Blood!

“No…” she whispered. She was bleeding between her legs. She’d remembered her mother saying something about it but it’d been so long ago… What was she supposed to do? What…

There was a knock on the door.

“Yes!” she shouted out loudly.

“Is a girl up?”

“No! I mean… yes…” Arya bit her lower lip. She’d rather fight a dozen sea beasts than explain to Jaqen what happened. She walked to the door but didn’t open it.

“How do you feel?” Jaqen asked.

“I… there’s something… it’s… Well, it happens to… to women of… my age…” Arya stuttered out, her cheeks burning with embarrassment.

“Oh…” Jaqen said on the other side of the door. “I thought so. Has your mother told you something?”

“I don’t remember, that’s the problem,” Arya said, frustrated.

“There’s someone who might, though,” Jaqen said.

“Who?”

“Your visitor,” he replied and Arya raised her eyebrows, hearing Cairn’s voice behind the door, asking her to open. Arya did that after a while of hesitating, noticing Jaqen’s disappearing coat.

“Hello Breen, may I sit down?” Cairn said. She was the housekeeper of the building in Pentos they were currently staying. She was in her forties, black-haired and chubby. Arya nodded while the woman sat down to the table.

“Your father asked me to talk to you about women’s bleeding. You know nothing about it, I presume.”

Arya shook her head.

“How old are you, Breen?”

“Fourteen years, seven months, three days.”

“Just the usual age…” Cairn remarked and started explaining and giving advices. Arya was listening. It seemed like a very unpleasant thing so far, not mentioning the pains in her stomach she would most probably experience every month.

“And if you want a baby, your bleeding week is not a time for it,” Cairn added and Arya shot her a look.

“What?”

“You can have a baby from now on.”

“I don’t want any babies,” Arya said, frowning. “They’re crying all the time and they’re dirty and annoying, you must look after them all the time…”

Cairn laughed.

“I’m sure your father would say something else.”

“He wouldn’t, because – “Arya stopped abruptly. Cairn was looking her in the eyes and Arya shifted hers away.

“I thought so,” Cairn said silently. “He’s not your father, is he? No, no, you two definitely aren’t a father and a daughter. I frankly don’t care, Breen, why you pretend the opposite. You obviously care about each other, that’s more important.”

“How did you know I’m not his daughter?” Arya asked.

“From the way you look at him,” Cairn said. “I know daughters that admire, love and respect their fathers but there’s something more in the way you look at him.”

Arya wanted to brush her off but eventually let it go, watching Cairn walking to the door.

“And did you notice how…,” Arya coughed, “ _he_ looks at me?”

Cairn turned over her shoulder and Arya wondered if her question was really as obvious as it sounded to her at the very moment she’d said it aloud.

“I think,” Cairn said, “he was very well aware you were just a girl.”

“ _Were?_ ” Arya repeated. “I’m still a girl.”

Cairn shook her head.

“You’re a woman now, Breen,” she said, giving her a small smile and closing the door. Arya was sitting on her bed, trying to understand what Cairn had just told her.

Later in the evening when Arya was grooming their horses, Jaqen walked in the stable silently, staying a few steps behind her.

“Has a girl talked to Cairn?” he asked and Arya nodded without turning at him.

“Does she know everything she needed?”

“Oh, yes,” Arya said, with a faint smile, brushing Sypherion’s back.

“Good…” Jaqen said, leaving.

“Jaqen,” Arya called his name, stopping him.

“Yes?”

She approached, looking him in the eyes.

“Thank you,” she said and he bowed a little so she could kiss his cheek.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> OK, I thought such a thing must have happened one day...


	24. Decisions

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Part II - The Training

“Hey, girl, why don’t you go inside? It’s not really a sunny day today…”

Arya was sitting on a small bench near the edge of the ship, wrapped in a blanket. It was a cold and rainy day and wind was full of sea spray, the freezing air drove everyone to the lower deck.

“What are you sitting here all alone for?”

Arya peeked at him from the blanket around her head. She saw a man approximately five or seven years older. He was slim, blond and with light blue eyes.

“That’s none of your business,” she uttered. The man came closer like he didn’t hear her.

“I’m Quarren. What’s your name?”

“Iwa,” Arya said. Quarren looked at her closely.

“I can help you, you know, it’s dangerous for a young girl to travel alone.”

Arya raised an eyebrow but didn’t say anything. She was actually enjoying it.

“Why do you think I need help?” she asked then. Quarren shrugged, running a hand through his hair.

“You’re young and alone, obviously lost and, you know, a woman…”

Arya felt her smile growing wider and sneakier. She touched the hilt of her dagger under the blanket but stayed still. Quarren approached her with a bit of a cocky smile, although he wasn’t a completely unsympathetic boy and from the way he was acting Arya judged he was honest.

“Come down, it’s warmer there,” he said and touched her arm. Right at the moment Arya froze, drawing her dagger out.

“Arghrati, Iwa.”

Arya sighed and rolled her eyes, leaving the dagger where it was, while Quarren turned over with surprise. Jaqen was standing right behind him, like he appeared there out of nowhere, quietly as a ghost. He was watching him with his face calm but Arya could see the displeasure in his blue eyes.

“And who are you?” Quarren asked.

“This girl’s companion,” Jaqen answered. He was wearing dark clothes, his cloak floating in the wind and as he was walking closer, Arya could see the exact moment Quarren had realized Jaqen was a lot taller and most probably much stronger.

“I… thought she was alone…” Quarren said and Jaqen smirked.

“Even if she was, little boy, trust me you shouldn’t dare to touch her.”

Quarren let out a nervous laughter while giving Arya a look but what he saw in Arya’s eyes had evidently made him even more alarmed. When he left, Jaqen stood beside Arya, leaning against the railing.

“This attention drawing is needless,” he answered. Arya pouted, closing her eyes.

“You didn’t have to scare him away,” Arya remarked. “I could make some fun of him.”

“It was a young man of your age, quite good looking if I may say, offering you his help… And all you think of is your dagger pressed against his neck.”

Arya stayed silent. She really wasn’t in the mood for explaining how she disliked the idea of a man’s touch. She even knew it probably wasn’t the ideal course of things but she chose to ignore it rather than deal with it.

“Why do you care about this?” she asked then. Jaqen remained silent. Arya eased after a while. Of course she was aware he was looking after her – in a way – and to be sincere she had to admit she liked it.

They had left Pentos three days ago. Arya quite liked the city. She was improving her language there and practicing her archery skills, using the lonely beaches with plenty of seagulls to aim at. She was attracted by the sea and she loved swimming and diving in it. She was able to dive very deep and stay there long. She started using this skill for catching precious and hard to get fish, selling them at markets.

Jaqen was showing her how to merge with crowds, how to listen to people’s talks unnoticed or how to quietly disappear. She was still making potions, remedies or poisons and other useful substances. Arya could also notice her improvement in sword and combat skills, although it wasn’t enough for Jaqen to stop using the cloth tied around her eyes yet.

 _“A girl still relies on her eyes too much. What if somebody blinds her? Or ties a cloth around her head? An ordinary girl would be defenseless. But_ this _girl will know just what to do.”_

There was a small green lizard that lived in the sands around Pentos and Arya had soon found out the lizard was extremely timid and would flee at the slightest hint of her steps. She decided to learn how to walk as quietly as possible and catch the lizard eventually. It took Arya nearly a month but she did it in the end. She named the lizard _Miy_ , which meant _victory_.

Another part of her training was relatively new but Arya was enjoying it greatly. Jaqen was teaching her how to train her horse and make a valuable tool for fight out of it. Arya appreciated Nuvian’s suitable qualities and it was her who she should thank for having Nuvian with her. Jaqen intended to let the horse in Tyrosh because he thought the animal would be uncontrollable on the ship, unlike Sypherion, but Arya wasn’t very happy about it…

_“No way, Jaqen! It’s my horse! I named him, I trained him, he listens to me, to every order I say. Look!”_

_She shouted at the horse: “Nuvian, desi’gre.”_

_Nuvian knelt on one leg._

_“Wisanti!”_

_The horse raised on hind legs. Arya stroke his neck and looked at Jaqen._

_“Nuvian is coming with me.”_

_Jaqen was watching her with the usual mixture of annoyance and amusement, formed into the bitter-sweet smirk. He rolled his eyes then, pouting and Arya knew that meant she’d won._

_“If you aren’t able to calm him down on the ship, he stays here. And you’ll pay for him yourself.”_

Arya grinned lightly. She’d started making her own decisions and she liked it. And obviously, Jaqen wasn’t against it either.


	25. Follow

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Part II - The Training

Arya sneaked into the dark night. She heard the sea near and could feel its salty smell. The island of Gyz was small, the harbor town was nothing compared to the pulsing Tyrosh or Pentos. Even at night it was quiet and peaceful. Their ship stopped there for one day to get more supplies.

She went along the stone beach where sea was crushing with the land.

“A storm is coming…”

Arya stopped when she saw his figure standing in front of her.

“Did a girl follow me?”

“I did…” Arya said. She noticed Jaqen had been weird again, not talking much and spending a lot of time alone. She would usually let him be but this time she decided otherwise. Maybe because she got really worried this time, although there was no particular reason to be.

“A man thought he would let you rest,” Jaqen said, obviously insinuating Arya’s problems on the ship. She frowned. If somebody told her she would get seasick, Arya would brush this someone off with the help of her bloodthirsty direwolf. Except that he would be right. She’d been vomiting through most of the journey, pretending to be completely fine, which was something Jaqen could see through instantly.

“Don’t you want to tell me what are you really thinking about?” Arya asked him silently. Jaqen turned slightly, so she could see his profile.

“About things long lost and forgotten.”

“What things?”

“Things so old they might have never happened…”

Arya stayed silent for a moment.

“These things make you sad?” she wanted to know, her voice curious. When Jaqen wouldn’t answer, she asked another question: “Can you tell me about them?”

“One day, maybe, lovely girl…” Jaqen said.

“I’m going to remember this, Jaqen,” Arya said. “I’m going to make you keep your word.”

She saw him smirk softly.

“You are?”

“Of course. Don’t you know me?”

“I do…” he said quietly.

“But I don’t know you,” Arya said. Jaqen shook his head lightly.

“You know more than you think…” he mumbled, looking up at the dark sky.

“The storm will hit in a few minutes.”

“A few minutes sounds good…” Arya remarked. He turned at her and she looked him in the eyes. That specific smile appeared on his face and Arya could feel herself smiling in the same way. Jaqen approached her and stepped behind her.

“Oh no, not again, Jaqen…” Arya said, frustrated a little. She heard him chuckle.

“Be patient, lovely girl. You’ll appreciate it later.”

“I hope so…” she said while he was tying a piece of cloth over her eyes.

It was like a curtain fall for Arya. When her eyes were covered, she could hear every noise twice as loud. She heard him move to the left, she heard his coat floating in the wind and she heard his gloved hand clutching the hilt of his sword.

“Now…” he breathed out. Arya turned over swiftly, blocking his blow. She bowed, stepping aside, their swords clashing again. He was very close to her, so close his hair touched her face.

They were moving along the beach. Arya followed the sound of his steps in the sand and on the rocks. She didn’t miss a single blow of his sword. She heard his blade wheezing in the air when fighting.

Arya had a hint of a smile stuck on her face the whole time, blood rushing in her veins from the excitement, from the awareness of her improvement and skills.

“Smiling – is she?” he whispered into her ear. And suddenly, Arya couldn’t hear a thing. It was like he had vanished in the wind.

“Don’t take it off,” he said when she reached for the cloth on her eyes. She started running after his voice. But it was like he was gone again. Then she could hear his steps ahead. The pleasant excitement was replaced by agitation. Why was he doing that? It was like he was and wasn’t there at the same time. Everytime she heard his steps, there was complete silence afterwards. And when she heard it again, he was much further.

“Jaqen…”

Arya didn’t give up. She wasn’t going to let him escape. She would catch him.

“Stop!”

Arya froze where she stood when his voice cut through the night.

“Look around…”

Arya took the cloth off. She gasped and widened her eyes, taking a few steps back. She was standing on the edge of a cliff. Jaqen was in front of her, only over the cut out hole.

“You’d fall,” he said.

“I didn’t want to lose you…” Arya said, breathing heavily.

“A man didn’t think a girl would follow him so far…” Jaqen said, raising his eyebrow a bit. Arya was watching him in silence, feeling the deeper meaning behind his words. But what did he want to hear? She shook her head, walking along the cliff to him. She knew this was something like a test of his, although she didn’t know exactly what for. She stopped a few feet away from him and looked him in the eyes. Eyes she’d learned to read in, eyes she’d trusted to.

“I’ll always follow you, Jaqen,” she said and he slowly lifted his head. He might have not expected that answer, as she judged by his expression. There was silence for a moment. Then Jaqen neared her quietly and bowed, kissing her on the top of her head. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Slowly closing the second part, hope you like it so far :-) Drop a comment to let me know. Thanks :-)


	26. Vissya

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Part II - The Training

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Another time jump, about half a year or a year...

Arya was standing by the door of her room, her eyes closed, her figure still. She heard it, the silent steps. It wasn’t Jaqen; she could never hear him coming. So it was an intruder.

One, two, three… Three men entered the house. She had an idea who they were. Two days ago when visiting the harbor in Myr, Arya unfortunately got the attention of three rogues by making fun of them. It wasn’t what she’d usually do, but she just couldn’t resist laughing at their clumsy way of stealing. However – although they weren’t good robbers, they could be skilled murderers.

She should have kept her mouth shut. If Jaqen knew, he would be so angry… But he was gone again; she hadn’t seen him for five days.

Arya froze, clutching her dagger firmly. They were coming upstairs, searching the other room and approaching hers… The door opened.

“Where’s that little bitch?”

A big shadow came inside her room. She covered his mouth and cut his throat swiftly.

“Hey, did you find her or what?! She’s going to beg for mercy when I’m done with her…”

Another man walked inside. He saw the dead body and opened his mouth to shout. Arya was behind him, ready for it. Blood flooded the floor all around and in front of the door.

Arya started screaming. She heard the third man running in and watched him slip on the blood and fall on his back. She knelt beside him and stabbed him in the heart.  

“The little bitch is done,” she said, looking him in the eyes. She got up, wiping the blood from the dagger. Her heart was racing faster, although she was calmer than usual. She went downstairs and sat down to the kitchen table.

It wasn’t just fear she felt but hate and anger too. She knew they’d rape her if they could. It wouldn’t matter much if they found her attractive or not. Not that she would experience many men trying something on her, though. She was aware her boy-like attitude was rather discouraging and she also had Jaqen to take care of those _bothersome_. Speaking of whom… Jaqen appeared in the kitchen door.

“Vissya,” Arya said, which was an old word in Braavos for greeting someone. It was used only for the closest. When he’d heard that from her for the first time, he was very surprised.

“Vissya,” he said, walking in. “How are you?”

“Fine… only my room is a bit messy… I think a little disposal will be necessary.”

Jaqen glanced at her.

“Again?”

“Just a few robbers,” she shrugged.

“Are you hurt?”

Arya crossed her arms on her chest.

“What do you think?”

Jaqen rolled his eyes, putting his sword and cloak on a chair. Arya noticed the creases on his forehead and the exhaustion in his eyes. Rarely had she seen him worn out like that, but the truth was she hadn’t seen him sleep much either.

Jaqen removed the armor plate and Arya looked at his shoulder.

“You’re wounded, Jaqen. On your shoulder.”

The cut was deep and bleeding, his whole sleeve was soaked in blood. The sword must have gone right in the gap between the armor plates. Jaqen was frowning, looking at the wound.

“Are you telling me you haven’t even noticed?”

“I haven’t, apparently.”

“I’ll take care of it,” Arya said, worried a little. Jaqen was obviously too tired to resist, so he sat down to the table and took off his shirt, revealing not only the cut, but a large purple bruise over the left side of his chest as well.

“Damn, Jaqen, what’s that?” Arya muttered.  

“Nothing serious,” Jaqen said unconcerned, but when Arya pulled his left arm up, he winced with pain. The cut on his shoulder was far deeper and bigger than Arya thought. She washed the blood and cleaned it as much as she could, putting a few leaves of healing herbs over it before bandaging it with a clean cloth strip. Jaqen was watching her over candle light, his face shadowed and his eyes dark.

“Thank you,” he said and she nodded, hoping the wound wouldn’t fester. They would go to dispose of the bodies an hour or so before sunrise. Which meant a few hours of possible sleep.

“Do you have a free bed?” she asked him. “I don’t want to share a room with three corpses. I may be tough, but not that much.”

Jaqen snorted.

“That can be arranged,” he said.

“Why don’t you rest a bit as well?” Arya asked.

“A man doesn’t need it,” Jaqen said. Arya smirked bitterly.

“A man maybe doesn’t, but _you_ do. You look awful.”

Jaqen narrowed his eyes.

“I mean it,” Arya said. “Have some rest. _Please,_ Jaqen.”

Jaqen blinked, surprised. He got up eventually, following her to his basically unused bedroom.

“Who keeps the bed so clean?” he asked.

“I do,” Arya said skeptically. “In case you decided to actually sleep in it at least once.”

“That’s very considerate.”

Jaqen laid down on the bed slowly, letting out a deep sigh, while Arya laid on her side next to him, looking at his profile.

“It’s not so bad, is it?”

“No…” he admitted, closing his eyes. “It’s quite likeable, actually. I understand now why you spend so much time by laying.”

“Hey!” Arya said. “That’s not true, I’m always doing something!”

“Of course. Sleeping is also _something._ ”

“Jaqen!”

She poked him in the ribs and he winced, hissing with pain.

“Don’t do that,” he warned her, but sounded more amused than angry. Arya grinned.

“You’re so unappreciative…” she complained. Jaqen laughed silently, taking a deep breath afterwards and relaxing bit by bit. Arya snuggled up to him under the blanket, feeling the warmness of his skin. She listened to the soothing beating of his heart. She liked the sound of it. She liked the presence of it near her.

 “Jaqen?”

Jaqen just mumbled something, barely conscious. He was falling asleep and she wouldn’t disturb him. Without the well-known pout on his lips, he looked somehow different. So he _was_ able to sleep, she thought with an unseen smirk. Well, she wasn’t going to wake him up anytime soon.

“Sleep well, Jaqen…” she said before closing her eyes too.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hope you liked this one, I thought it was time for Jaqen to start warming up slowly:-) Please let me know what you think and drop a comment, I'll appreciate it a lot. Thanks for all the kudos as well and enjoy!


	27. Trick

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Part II - The Training

Five guards were walking down the street, surrounding an older man in yellow robes. It was Zhuik, a high priest of Myr. People were making them a path, shouting and trying to speak to him. Suddenly, a very loud bang could be heard over their heads. At the moment Zhuik started screaming. There was a big red stain on his robes. His guards were shocked somebody could slip under their hands. Then Zhuik fell silent, looking down at the stain, evidently perplexed when he realized it wasn’t blood but mere paint.

“I want to know who did that and I want him hanged!” he roared, absolutely furious.

“It was me, you stupid fat man!”

Everybody turned in awe, looking at a small figure standing on the roof of a nearby building. It was a slender boy wearing a purple turban, with his arms tattooed heavily.

“I’m Kyrr from the city of Eland and that was for murdering my dog!”

In the following second the boy was gone. And while the crowd was upset and loud and Zhuik was shouting angrily at his guards, Arya was calmly walking away. A smile was spreading on her face.

“A dog? That’s original…”

Arya barely turned when Jaqen joined her.

“I should have painted him a mustache.”

“Who’s Kyrr?”

“Nobody… Kyrr is gone with the wind.”

“Who was he before being Kyrr?”

“A humble little girl selling herbs,” Arya said with a smirk.

“And the tattoos?”

“Just paint,” Arya said, rolling her sleeves down.

“Turbans suit you,” Jaqen remarked and Arya glared at him, brushing her long hair away from her eyes.

“I don’t think so,” she said. “Anyway, remember what you said to me years ago?”

_“Look closely, wolf-girl,” Jaqen said from behind a high pillar as they both were watching the ruler of Tyrosh walking with his guards through the street. Then Jaqen vanished for a moment and a resonant bang could be heard._

_Arya narrowed her eyes slightly, looking into the uproar._

_“Five guards,” Jaqen said to her ear, already back. “When the protected man is in danger, they act in a split second. Two guards shield him with their own bodies. The three left form a half-circle around them, ready to kill.”_

_Jaqen lowered his eyes to Arya and she looked up into his. There was a small smirk on his lips._

_“So, what would you do if you wanted to kill the man?” he asked. Arya thought about it but waited till Jaqen himself told her._

_“Distraction,” he said. “Of natural cause. That prevents innocent people being punished. Such a distraction can be various. An animal, breaking of something big, the purpose is always the same. Get the attention of as many as possible.”_

_Arya nodded slowly, watching the small procession moving again._

_“Then there’s finding the gap. There’s always a gap to slip through to your target. What’s next, wolf-girl?”_

_“Killing,” she said silently. He chuckled._

_“Yes, the main part. It’s always better if the killing can have the form of an accident. Sometimes that isn’t possible, though._

_“What’s the best way to kill a man?”_

_“There are thousands ways,” he said. “With advantages and disadvantages. An arrow is great because of the distance but you can easily miss or your target survives. A sword is lethal but you must be very close to use it. Usually it depends on numerous circumstances. However there are a few things you need to think of every time.”_

_Jaqen started counting them on his fingers._

_“First – what happens if your mission goes wrong? Who will most likely be punished? Second – your decoy. Minimize the possibility somebody could recognize you. Third – escape plans. Fourth – how high the risk you take is. Sometimes it’s better to wait than act recklessly. And fifth – it’s better to go through your plan over and over again than making a small mistake that can easily cost you your life.”_

_He fell silent and Arya nodded once._

_“I understand.”_

_“Good,” Jaqen said and gave her a small pout. “Remember that well, wolf-girl, because it’ll take you years to achieve it.”_

They reached their house and Jaqen stopped in front of the door. Arya was waiting, not taking her eyes off him. He sighed.

“Well done,” he said.

“I know!” she exclaimed. “I was a shadow, wasn’t I? Wasn’t I, Jaqen?”

“You were a shadow,” Jaqen admitted and Arya grinned. It was an early evening and they would go practice at night for Jaqen wasn’t doing anything and Arya had also a night off. It was interesting how much money could Jaqen get for being an assassin. It wasn’t the astronomical price of a faceless man because he couldn’t reveal it to anyone – he was just the best possible assassin that wasn’t faceless.

Arya was sitting in the garden of the house, making a bluish liquid that – if spread on the skin – would make the skin look scabby and repelling. Great for disguising as a beggar.

“Arya.”

His lips almost touched her ear. Arya jumped up and turned. Jaqen rarely called her by her name. He was standing behind her, wearing a loose coat that was revealing the skin on his chest. Arya coughed, looking somewhere else.

“Yes?” she asked, hoping he didn’t notice her stare.

“You are sixteen years old,” Jaqen said. “Although your mind is more mature than many those older than you.”

Arya was very flattered and glad it was dark and he couldn’t see it. She wondered how mature it was when she couldn’t take her eyes off his chest…

“I’ve been training you for four years. And you proved yourself to be quick to learn. Very quick. I can’t teach you all I know but I’ll teach you all I can. There’s a certain place used for testing the level of one’s skills. It’s on a desolate island, far away.”

Jaqen paused for a moment.

“And it’s a dangerous place. It’s not guaranteed you will survive.”

Arya was hesitating but she felt the shiver of thrill and excitement growing inside her.

“Do _you_ think I will?” she asked. Jaqen smirked slightly.

“If I didn’t think that, I wouldn’t suggest this, would I?”

“Only if you wanted to get rid of me.”

“That’s the last thing I would want to do,” Jaqen said as he was passing by her. Arya’s eyes followed him and her fast heart beating wasn’t caused by the thought of a desolate island with a dangerous test. But by something far different…

That night when they finished practicing, Arya took a bath in the sea. Jaqen was looking after her on the beach, his eyes fixed upon the horizon with a full moon. Arya couldn’t focus on swimming, though. All her attention was drawn by Jaqen’s dark silhouette against the sand. She was observing his impressive height and broad shoulders…

Suddenly Jaqen turned at her. Arya blinked and dived immediately, the sea water cooling down her blushing cheeks. He was definitely smirking. She saw it. He _knew_ she was staring. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Yep, the training part is coming to an end soon. Hope you like and let me know in the comment box again. Thanks and enjoy!


	28. Legend

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Part II - The Training

It was a late evening on a hot summer day. A lazy day for Arya. It was so hot she wasn’t able to do anything. She spent the day sitting in the shadow of a big tree in their courtyard, reading a book with old legends. They had still been in Myr although Jaqen was planning to leave in a month or two and sail to the Virn Island. Arya didn’t like thinking about it because it was making her nervous.

“I’m surprised you haven’t melted,” she said when Jaqen laid his hand on the door handle. She was finally able to say he was coming even before he entered the door, until then it had always been the other way around.

Jaqen walked in, looking weary. Arya stood up, stretching. The sun went down a few minutes ago and the hot air was finally getting cooler. Jaqen sat down on a bench in front of the house and rubbed his eyes. Arya fetched him a cup of water and a bowl of fruits.

“I’d like to go practice at night,” Arya said. “I can’t stand I haven’t done anything yet.”

Jaqen grimaced at her.

“Please, Jaqen,” she said, looking him in the eyes. “Just for a couple of hours.”

Jaqen groaned, obviously slightly annoyed, but Arya knew he would agree eventually, because he always did. She undid the straps of his shoulder armor and took it off him while Jaqen was taking off his gloves.

“I’ve read a nice legend today,” Arya said, undoing the straps on his other shoulder.

“Yes?” Jaqen took a sip of water. “What was it about?”

“Dragons.”

Jaqen chuckled.

“That’s a surprise,” he said. Arya put the other armor plate aside as well.

“It was about two dragons, Verillian and Nygean. They always fought together, they never parted. One couldn’t be without the other but when they were together, they were the strongest possible power in the world, feared by all. But one day, people created a giant crossbow and a single big arrow of Valyrian steel. They shot the arrow and it pierced through Nygean’s heart. Verillian was nearby when it happened and the dragon burned the whole coastline in rage. People who survived it said they had never seen such wrath before. After that Verillian flew high to the sky and above the ocean and dived head-first into the ocean. They had never seen Verillian again and say the dragon sleeps on the very bottom of the ocean, waiting for Nygean to wake him up.”

Arya took off the chest armor plate, looking at Jaqen if he wasn’t wounded again, knowing he wouldn’t probably say or find out in the first place.

“Don’t you think it’s amazing the dragons couldn’t live without each other?” she asked, curious. “They all say dragons don’t have a high level of emotions but I don’t think that’s true.”

Jaqen tilted his head a little.

“We will never know what happens in a dragon’s head,” he said.

“But they are almost like people in this case,” Arya said. “Some people can’t live without each other either.”

Arya was standing above Jaqen, pressing her palms against his shoulder blades and spine to relieve his tense muscles. Jaqen had his eyes closed but was obviously listening to her.

“And I don’t mean people like my mother and father. They loved each other indeed, my mother was heartbroken when my father had been executed and I doubt she would ever find a man again if she didn’t die. But she would be able to live on after time healed the pain.”

Arya ran her hand up Jaqen’s spine slowly.

“What I meant is when two people – or animals – are so connected they literally can’t live without each other. That option only equals the end. They are whole when they are together. Like a stone broken in two. There’s nothing that could stop them when they are together. They are the strongest when they are together. But they will never by whole again if parted.”

Arya stopped with her hand on Jaqen’s shoulder, expecting him to make fun of what she said. Jaqen had a soft smirk on his lips, his eyes still closed.

“That can happen,” he admitted. “Rarely, though.”

Arya sat down right in front of him and Jaqen opened his eyes and looked at her, leaning his elbow on his knee, leaned forward slightly.

“What are you thinking of?” he asked.

“That I’m like Verillian,” Arya said, looking him in the eyes. Jaqen was silent for a couple of seconds before he stood up and bowed, kissing her cheek softly. Arya caught his arm.

“Let’s go swim, Jaqen.”

Jaqen frowned a little.

“No.”

“Why not? It’s been a terribly hot day today. The sea will refresh us. Come with me this time.”

“I’m always with you,” Jaqen remarked.

“But you never swim.”

“I don’t like sea, you know that.”

Arya couldn’t persuade him to go swimming but he at least went with her to the sea. It’d become a kind of a habit. Arya swimming in the sea at night, completely alone and surrounded by the astounding mass of water, and Jaqen looking after her on the beach.

Arya was diving a lot that night; she liked the feeling of total freedom, being tied by nothing. But even under water, _he_ was stuck in her mind. Wasn’t it foolish what she’d said to him? If he felt it differently, if he felt it _less_ than her… What if he only had the need to protect her, train her, help her but there was a line he wouldn’t cross?

And what was she supposed to do when she didn’t want it this way? Surely she was a little girl when they had met but time passed and she’d grown, things changed…

Arya emerged, breathing in deeply. Why wasn’t it a bit easier and less confusing?

“You swim far better than a sea beast would.”

Arya gasped, turning around in the water. Jaqen was so close to her their cheeks touched. He whispered into her ear again.

“And you are so much more beautiful.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Yep, the training part is coming to an end soon. Hope you like and let me know in the comment box again. Thanks and enjoy!


	29. Good Luck

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Part II - The Training

Arya had been nervous since the first time they laid a foot on that island. It seemed like formed only by the white sand everywhere, with occasional dead trees or bushes. No animals, no grass, nothing but sand.

They were proceeding mostly in silence. Jaqen was absorbed by his own thoughts and so was Arya. She felt something strange coming from the depths of that island, making her anxious. She asked Jaqen about the test but he said she wasn’t allowed to know anything in advance. Arya hoped he could make an exception for her.

_“A man makes many exceptions for you, wolf-girl. But this is not one of them.”_

He also told her that would have been cheating and cheating in this test could get her into some real trouble.

“Have you been there, Jaqen?” Arya asked and it took a few seconds before Jaqen actually noticed she had spoken to him.

“I have,” he admitted.

“How old were you?” she wanted to know, praying he was sixteen like her.

“That isn’t important,” Jaqen answered. “It’s not your age that matters here.”

“Great, I’m a winner in that case,” Arya remarked. “What matters then?”

“ _You_ matter.”

“And how did _you_ do it? Did you survive?”

Jaqen looked at her, pouting.

“No, I died,” he said and Arya grimaced at him.

“Fine, I’m nervous so I say stupid things.”

“You’re often nervous then.”

“Jaqen!”

But Jaqen was giving her the face: _“I wasn’t serious”_ and Arya smirked, aware he was trying to help her calm down. They had been sailing for three weeks and it was real hell for Arya. She adored and loved the sea but felt sick when sailing it. Therefore Jaqen arranged a few day long stop on a small island nearby where Arya relaxed and regained her strength.

“You can’t take anything with you,” Jaqen told her. “No weapons, nothing.”

Arya hated this idea.

They were supposed to return to Myr after the test was finished, collect their horses and possessions and sail to Volantis. Arya liked reassuring herself with the simple fact there was some _“after”_ the test.

They made fire that night. Jaqen was watching the flames; his eyes were darkened again. Arya knew he was deep in thoughts at moments like this. Thinking about the things burdening his mind, things he kept secret from her.

She opened her mouth to speak and closed it, unsure of what to actually say.

“Do you have dreams, Jaqen?” she asked after a while, looking into the flames. 

“I do,” he admitted.

“Are they nice?”

“No.”

“What are they about?”

“Pain and blood,” Jaqen said. “Death and fear.”

Arya tilted her head on side.

“Why do you dream about such things?” she wanted to know. “Is it something that happened to you?”

“I’m not sure,” he said and his doubts were genuine.

“Do you remember anything from the time before?” Arya asked silently. “Before becoming _faceless_?”

Jaqen looked up and she could see he was hesitating.

“Some things,” he said. “I seem to be remembering more as time passes by.”

“I wonder how you looked like…” Arya said curiously, looking at him.

“Don’t you too?”

“A girl asks questions again…” Jaqen said, giving her his usual smirk.

“Well, I was just thinking – if you looked like you look now, you wouldn’t even know, is it true?”

“Possible, but unlikely,” Jaqen answered. He leaned forward, putting some wood into the fire. Arya was watching his face, enlightened by the dancing flames, thinking of how handsome he was. She always knew it but never thought of it so much. Handsome, _handsome_ …

Arya shook her head, looking away. She had the strange feeling in her guts again. Twisting, tickling feeling. She sighed and rubbed her eyes. This was getting weirder every day. She had never been so confused in her life…

She lied beside him that night and fell asleep with the thought of his face. The face she grew to know, the face she found handsome, the face representing the only person in her entire life she cared about at the moment, that very face… was fake… It was a false face, made up, it was a mask. It _wasn’t_ real. This _wasn’t_ him.

She woke up in the middle of the night and saw Jaqen sitting next to her, looking into the darkness.

“Did you have a dream?” she asked. Jaqen didn’t acknowledge he’d heard her. Arya laid her head down, closing her eyes.

“I saw the sea in my dream,” Jaqen said all of the sudden. “And I hated it.”

“Why?”

“I don’t know… But this dream keeps coming back to me.”

Jaqen looked at her then, changing the subject.

“You’re nervous,” he said. “That is only natural. Think of what you have already mastered. Things people usually learn twice as long.”

Arya smirked, raising an eyebrow.

“But they don’t have such a good teacher like I do,” she remarked and Jaqen snorted softly. He leaned his head against the rock and closed his eyes.

“Sleep,” he said. “Don’t waste your energy flattering me.”

“I wasn’t flattering,” Arya objected, covering herself with a blanket.

“I was stating.”

The following day they were going through the wasteland till the evening cooled the hot sand. They reached the ruins of an old city and Arya watched it, the anxious feeling in her stomach growing bigger. Those weren’t ordinary ruins. There was something doom-like about it.

“This is it…” she muttered, turning at Jaqen.

“What happened here?” she asked quietly. Jaqen was observing the ruins as well.

“Plague. Very long time ago. Somebody poisoned it. Willingly.”

Well, Arya thought with irony, there wasn’t a better place to go at the moment, than an old ghost city with plague history.

“I can’t go any further with you,” Jaqen said when they stopped in front of an old stone gate and walls.

“You must go alone from now on.”

Arya wiped her sweating hands into her pants.

“How long it’ll take?” she asked, trying to sound calm.

“That can’t be said,” Jaqen said. “A few hours or days…”

“Fine…” she nodded. “And will you… wait for me?”

“Of course,” Jaqen said. He seemed hesitating for a short moment, almost like he was about to stop her from going. He changed his mind then and approached her, wearing his typical smirk.

“I wouldn’t bring you here, Arya, if I didn’t believe you could succeed.”

“Yes…” Arya said.

“Don’t let fear get in the way,” Jaqen added. “You are wild and instinctive. Use it when it’s the right time.”

“Wow, it’s a great thing to give advices when you don’t have to go there,” Arya said sarcastically and Jaqen chuckled and shook his head lightly.

“Good luck, wolf-girl,” he said and kissed her. Arya felt his hot lips on her cheek and she knew she would be able to do just anything at this moment. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Yep, the training part is coming to an end soon. Hope you like and let me know in the comment box again. Thanks and enjoy!


	30. Test I

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Part II - The Training

Ghost city was a perfect description of what was laying beyond the wall. Ruins of buildings and temples and bones of numerous bodies scattered on the streets. There was silence around, only the cracking of the bones under her feet.

Arya was walking through the city, looking for every move. Suddenly, she saw a shadow moving behind one of the pillars. She breathed in deeply, preparing to fight bare-handed. It started darkening, like something swallowed the sun. The shadow was getting closer. Its position was changing but it kept approaching.

It had already been dark like in the middle of the night. Arya heard only her own breathing. But she sensed the presence of something else, following her and watching her…

She stopped, listening. She couldn’t see much, but she could _hear_. She heard someone else’s breathing apart from hers.

Closer and closer… and closer…

Arya moved quickly, raising an arm and blocking the attack.

“Who are you?!” she asked loudly. The breathing stopped and she could see a figure approximately her size in front of her. With a pair of cold silvery eyes staring at her.

“What you’re afraid of…” a voice said. A raspy, hissing voice. A voice that made her hair stand up.

“I’m not afraid,” she said as firmly as she could. She was thrilled and excited and maybe a little bit edgy but not scared or frightened…

“You _will_ be,” the voice answered. They started fighting then. Arya was relying solely on what she could hear. Her opponent was as quick and strong as she was and Arya was slowly getting tired.

“Reveal yourself!” she shouted.

“You know me…”

Arya widened her eyes, bowing to avoid another blow. Her opponent wasn’t answering anymore. But how come she couldn’t defeat _it_? And if her opponent was better than her, why hadn’t she been defeated already?

Arya backed off finally, too exhausted to continue, and reached a pillar she leaned against, waiting for her opponent to attack her. She heard steps approaching and turned quickly but something attacked her so fiercely she managed only to yelp in surprise.

It was growling right into her ear, like an animal, tearing and biting her all over her body, scratching and sinking its teeth into her skin. Arya pulled it apart, feeling a handful of her hair being plucked out.

She fell on her knees but was attacked again, even more viciously than before. Its hands were like claws and were surely going for her throat. Arya closed her eyes, focusing on keeping it as far from her as possible, covering her neck. She rolled over, getting up quickly. She wanted to attack but it’d been gone again.

“Where are you?!” she screamed in anger. “Come back and fight!”

Nothing. Silence. Arya shook her head. She started walking slowly and carefully again. The animality of her opponent’s fight was even more frightening when Arya heard it talk like a human.

It had slowly been growing light, although she couldn’t see the sun because the sky was milky grey. Arya knew her opponent had kept following her through the night. She looked at her arms, noticing several deep bloody scratches and bit marks on her skin.

So _rabid_ …

Suddenly, Arya froze where she stood. Something was moving in front of her in a shadow. She held her breath. It stepped into the light and Arya gasped silently. It looked like a savage – dirty, almost naked apart from a piece of a ragged cloth around the waist, with messy hair and flashing eyes.

Arya couldn’t even tell if it was a woman or a man. It didn’t partially look like a human either. More like a demon.

“Who are you?” she asked.

“J’naii,” it spoke with the hissing, raspy voice. That meant _“the other.”_

“And what do you want?” Arya said. “Do you want to kill me?”

J’naii tilted its head on side.

“Pain…”

J’naii stared into her eyes.

“Insanity…”

A terrible smile appeared on its face.

“Dread…”

Arya was watching it, breathing heavily. She’d met so many terrifying people or creatures but none of them had been as frightening as this one.

It attacked her again and Arya could barely shield against J’naii’s sharp teeth biting her throat. As they were fighting, Arya had slowly been realizing she wouldn’t defeat J’naii, not with this approach at least. She was doing her best and yet she hadn’t been closer to beating it.

And she was running out of strength.

J’naii punched her face hardly and Arya groaned in pain, backing off. She frowned, touching her cheek and looking at J’naii’s hand. She widened her eyes. J’naii was wearing a ring Arya knew. She’d given the same ring to Jaqen.

“Where did you get it?!” she shouted. J’naii started laughing.

“I took it,” J’naii rasped. “After I tore his hand off.”

“You’re lying!” Arya said. “You could never defeat him!”

“Are you sure?” J’naii asked. “Because I tasted his blood.”

J’naii licked its upper lip.

“He wasn’t expecting it…” J’naii continued, glaring at Arya from under the messy black hair.

“Because he knew my face…”

There was the insane grin on J’naii’s face again, Arya saw the white teeth. And then J’naii raised the head, brushing off the black hair. Arya opened her mouth, feeling her guts twisting.

It was _her!_

“That’s not possible…” she whispered.

“He was very surprised,” J’naii said. “When _you_ killed him.”

“I didn’t…”

“I am you,” J’naii said. “I’m always with you, wherever you go. I am what’s inside you, buried deeply, residing, but alive. I’m _the other_.”

Arya was shaking her head lightly in disbelief.

“I would _never_ hurt him,” she said through her teeth.

“You would when I take control,” J’naii said. “And when I kill you, I’ll be always in control. And the moment is here!”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Just a two or three chaps an this part is over :-) Hope you like so far, let me know, drop a comment!  
> Thanks for the feedback, glad you enjoy :-)


	31. Test II

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Part II - The Training

They were fighting during the day and when darkness fell on the ruined city, J’naii would vanish, lurking in the shadows. Arya was totally exhausted but worse – she was terrified. It simply couldn’t be true. This creature had _nothing_ to do with her. And Jaqen wasn’t dead. And she would _never_ hurt him!

But the more she was fighting J’naii, the more she could see they were a perfect match. Like a copy of each other. How come J’naii was something inside her? Something within her? The creature was horrifying and disgusting, just the thought of J’naii being a part of her was making her sick.

Was she telling the truth? It was the same ring Jaqen was wearing; Arya bought it for him at a market in Myr when she’d found a ring she knew had been ancient and extremely rare although evaluated as a cheap trinket. And how could Arya knew J’naii hadn’t slipped out of the city, pretending to be her and killed Jaqen when he hadn’t been expecting it.

Arya thought she was going in a loop over and over again. J’naii was either fighting her or following her, always a few steps behind, hidden in shadows. She would never leave.

And Arya knew J’naii would eventually get her to her knees. Tire her down, paralyzed with dread, struck by the fear about Jaqen being dead. Her body had already been covered in bleeding scratches and bit marks, burning her like fire.

J’naii’s breath against her face was like poison, her laugh like needles in her ears, her eyes like two torches melting her. Her claws tearing her skin and her voice like the voice of a demon itself.

“I will always be with you now…” J’naii kept repeating.

“ _Arya_ is weak. I’m so much stronger…”

One night Arya was lying on the ground, breathing deeply and listening to the ground if J’naii wasn’t coming. She was shaking with the exhaustion and strain. She couldn’t get J’naii’s voice out of her head. She was speaking to her, telling her terrible things, showing her horrid images and no matter what Arya had tried, she wouldn’t stop.

“That’s what I’ve done… What we’ve done…” J’naii was whispering in her mind and Arya saw blood and heard the sound of breaking bones.

“You’re such a monster. You try to hide it but it can’t stay hidden forever. It’s you.”

Arya flinched. No… She wasn’t like that…

“Your family had been what kept me sleeping but your family is gone. And _he_ ’s gone too. So now it’s just you and me. Forever…”

Arya shook her head. She didn’t want to listen. She wanted to focus, to think, but it was impossible when J’naii was in her head.

“Stop it!” she shouted. “Stop it, shut up!”

She could hear her laugh right into her ear.

“Give up… give up, give up, give up…”

More images of her family dying in blood appeared in front of her eyes, mixed with the memories from her childhood, of her training with Jaqen, of her numerous night sea baths with him looking after her on the beach…

And suddenly Arya felt not only fear but anger. Anger that J’naii dared to invade her thoughts. Her mind was only _hers_ , no-one else’s!

J’naii attacked her at the moment, as if she could feel how weak Arya was. Her moves were slowed down. Her skin was torn and blood was flowing from her. J’naii was winning.

Arya rolled, crawling away. She wasn’t going to give up! She would fight to her last breath. If she was to die, she wouldn’t just surrender.

“I’m winning…” J’naii breathed out.

“I said _shut up_!” Arya growled. With her last bit of strength she wrapped her fingers around J’naii’s wrists and started hitting her head with her forehead. She made her back off then. They kept fighting for the rest of the night. Arya couldn’t tell where she’d found the strength and how she prevented herself from falling on the ground dead. But every time she imagined or saw J’naii’s face, she refused to accept she would be a part of her.

Never…

She was Arya! Only Arya! She knew herself!

And Arya would get up again and again, exhausted but fighting till her heart was beating.

If J’naii was something inside her, she would also fight it. She wouldn’t allow it to outgrow. Or control!

Arya pulled J’naii away, throwing her on the ground.

She hadn’t come all this way to die like this.

“You can’t stop it!” J’naii said with anger. “We can’t be parted!”

It was an early morning with the ghastly light slowly reaching the old ruins. Arya was leaning against a wall, bloodied and in terrible pain. She saw blood on the ground around, hers and J’naii’s too.

“Don’t fight me, save yourself the pain!”

J’naii was in front of her, a few feet away. Breathing heavily and with her eyes red, revealing her teeth in the spiteful pout. Arya breathed in deeply. She closed her eyes, staying motionless. She listened to her heart beating. Still beating…

She heard J’naii’s bare feet running towards. She heard her body ploughing through the air.

“If we can’t be parted,” Arya shouted, stepping aside and avoiding her, catching J’naii’s arm and throwing her against the wall, “you must die with me!”

Arya looked inside the eyes and saw herself in them but she saw something more. She saw fear. J’naii’s fear.

Arya opened her mouth and sank her teeth deep in J’naii’s throat. She tightened the grip of her jaws and tore J’naii’s throat off. Warm blood spurted out on her face. J’naii shivered in Arya’s grasp as life was slipping out of her.

Arya fell on the ground next to J’naii’s dead body, taking a deep breath, feeling her head spinning. She didn’t want to stay in this city any longer. She got up slowly and started running. She was following the light and after an hour of running, falling, getting up and more running, she reached the gate. Arya ran through it, shouting.

“Jaqen!”

She gathered her breath and shouted more loudly: “Jaqen!”

He wasn’t dead… He wasn’t dead!

“Jaqen! Where are you!”

Arya almost screamed her lungs out and she heard blood rushing in her temples. She felt lost in the white sand and her vision was blurring.

“Jaqen!”

Suddenly someone caught her. Arya instinctively wanted to fight but the arms were stronger than hers. She knew it was him, though, even before laying eyes on his face.

“Jaqen…” she breathed into his chest, taking a deep breath of his scent. She collapsed but didn’t fall as he was holding her. She felt him kiss her hair, embracing her tightly, with evident relief and warmth.

“You’re fine, my lovely girl,” Jaqen said quietly into her ear, placing another kiss into her hair.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Oukey, so here we go, almost over with this part. Let me know what you think, drop a comment again. Thanks and enjoy!


	32. Her Wish

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Part II - The Training

Three free days. Arya hadn’t ever got so much free time. It was Jaqen’s idea, he wanted her to rest after passing the test. They were back in Myr and somehow, Arya was able to appreciate its exotic smell of spice and perfume and its lively spirit and colors, much more than before.

She liked visiting the markets and going through seemingly worthless things, only to find a real treasure sometimes. Like the ring Jaqen was wearing.

That day when they’d been sailing back to Myr from the island of Virn, Arya was too tired to speak and she was lying on the bottom of the small boat, her eyes closed, but she felt Jaqen’s look on her, she felt his hand touching her shoulder often, checking her breath.

_“I’m fine, Jaqen,” she would mumble from time to time. “Don’t worry.”_

_“You’ve done well,” Jaqen said. “Very well…”_

_“I was sure I would die.”_

_“Haven’t you remembered what I’d said?” he asked and Arya looked at him with half-lidded eyes, smirking weakly._

_“Tell me about it when you’re facing a terrible looking, flesh eating demon that claims it’s actually you. It was hard to remember my own name.”_

_Jaqen snorted. He gave her a look then, touching her cheek with his gloved hand, brushing her hair away softly._

_“I’m glad you’re back,” he said. Arya shook her head lightly._

_“Me too…”_

Arya passed the difficult test, she was back in Myr with Jaqen and they were planning to visit Lorath, the city of Jaqen’s origins. Arya could be perfectly satisfied. Only she wasn’t. Quite…

There was something bothering her. Making her frustrated…

“How was your day?” Jaqen asked, walking across the courtyard. Arya was grooming Nuvian and Sypherion under the last evening sun beams. She turned, looking at him.

“Fine, I enjoyed it. And yours?”

“As usual,” Jaqen said, passing by her and entering the house. Arya watched him, stooping her shoulders. Why was he doing that? Why was he so… _normal_? As he had always been. And he hadn’t even noticed she wore a different dress… Everything as usual… Which was fine, of course, it’d always been fine before, but there was a certain something Arya felt had changed, at least in her.

And suddenly, the _normal_ , the _usual_ , simply wasn’t enough.

Another hot day had passed, changing into a warm, moist evening. Jaqen came to the house along with the shadows of twilight. He took off his armor in the front room and left the house, walking to the private bathhouse. He’d requested a hot tub the day before, presuming he’d need it. He took off his dark red clothes, steam embracing him. His skin was gleaming faintly with sweat and moisture, his tall muscular frame shaded, enlightened only by a few torches around the wooden tub.

He took a deep breath as he was sinking into the hot water, letting out a heavy sigh. He leaned his head back, closing his eyes. Orange light from the flames was dancing on his face.

“Isn’t the water too hot?” Arya spoke to his ear, nearly touching it with her lips. Jaqen opened his eyes quickly, looking up. Arya smiled.

“Have I?” she asked teasingly, tilting her head on side. “Have I surprised you, Jaqen? Have I finally been quiet enough? Have I been the unseen, unheard phantom?”

Jaqen’s lips started curling into a smile. Arya was standing above him, looking him deep in the eyes.

“And have you promised me a special gift? I want it now. What is it?”

“A wish,” Jaqen said. “You can have one wish and I shall fulfill it.”

Arya stared into his blue eyes there were watching her so attentively. She felt her heart beat fast, felt her hair stand up, shivers running down her skin. Breathing heavily, trying to act calm and collected.

“Kiss me,” she said. Jaqen’s eyebrows unwittingly went up.

“Kiss me, Jaqen, that’s my – “

Arya had never finished the sentence. Jaqen turned around in the tub, getting up and grabbing her shoulders. He pulled her closer, pressing her against his wet chest. Arya barely had time to take a breath, stuck in his eyes. He bowed his head, kissing her on the lips.

Arya really thought her heart would explode. She managed to wrap her arms around his chest, as she was being lifted from the ground in his embrace.

The scent of his skin… She knew it so well; she loved it so much… She had never kissed anyone like that before but somehow she knew just what to do. He was holding her head in his hands, kissing her softly, passionately, his body towering above her, warm and strong, the hot steam shrouding them.

“Satisfied, lovely girl?” he breathed out. Arya thought she would never be able to move or speak again.

“Very…” she mumbled, noticing the growing smirk on Jaqen’s face.

“And I thought…” she said with a weak voice. “I thought you weren’t…”

“You were a little child when I’ve met you for the first time, “Jaqen said. “I can still see a part of the child in you, Arya, although you’re a woman now. I wouldn’t ever hurt you, so I let you decide…”

Arya shook her head.

“There’s nothing to decide,” she said. “I’ve already decided.”

She reached up, kissing him again. She felt him open his mouth in an amused smile.

“You kiss far too well for a girl who’s never kissed anyone.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Woo, finally :-) No sex, though, you'll have to wait for it a little bit longer. Hope you like it, I wanted it to mirror the previous chap involving a tub. Drop a comment, let me know.  
> Thanks for reading and enjoy!


	33. Everything

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Part II - The Training

Her training should have taught her how to become invisible. How to become the phantom, the shadow. And she had managed, eventually. It made her proud, it made her happy.

But there were times she didn’t want to be invisible. However, it seemed that had been exactly the way Jaqen had seen her since the day they had kissed.

Something went wrong but Arya didn’t have a clue what that could be. What had she done? Why wouldn’t he talk to her, _again_? Was he pretending none of it happened? He undoubtedly was acting like that.

Did he not see how it made her feel?

Spending even less time at home than before, rarely talking to her, he’d once again been nothing but a ghost, appearing only sporadically. Was this his way of dealing with things that bothered him? Did _she_ bother him?

She didn’t understand and was more and more upset with it so it started affecting her abilities.

One evening while practicing she got hit by the side of Jaqen’s sword three times because she simply couldn’t focus properly. It kept hurting like hell and Arya was hissing painfully while grooming the horses later on.

She heard him come, standing in the entrance. He turned, intending to walk away.

“Where are you going?” she asked, back to him, continuing grooming Sypherion.

“I have something to do…” he said, his voice calm and impersonal.

“I see…” Arya said, gritting her teeth when the sharp pain ran through her arm again.

“I won’t ask you any questions anymore,” she added. “I only wanted you to know I have always been honest with you, _always_ , Jaqen. If nothing more, I think I deserve honesty from you as well.”

There was silence but she felt him still standing there.

“If you think I couldn’t handle the truth, you have a wrong idea about me.”

She paused for a short moment.

“I want you to tell me. Tell me what happened to you. Do I mean nothing to you? Do you –“

“Nothing?” he repeated, his voice low-pitched and she could feel his breath in her hair.

“You mean _everything_ , Arya.”

Arya breathed deeply, her throat closing.

“So why, Jaqen, why do you look through me like that?”

“You wouldn’t understand –“

“Don’t try this one on me,” she said, shaking her head. “I don’t understand only because you won’t say a thing to me!”

She bowed her head, pushing the tears away. Jaqen kissed her neck softly.

“I’m sorry,” he whispered. “I’m sorry, my little girl.”

“I need to know, Jaqen,” she repeated. “What’s wrong?”

“I…”

He stopped, his lips touching her ear.

“Are you afraid? What are you afraid of?” she couldn’t understand.

“Don’t you see?” he asked quietly. “I said you mean everything. You mean _too much_ … When I look at you, when I touch you, when I hear your voice, I can’t image you _not being_ there anymore. But I don't believe I can give you what you need.”

“Are you sure, Jaqen, you know what I need?” Arya asked. “You use your face as a mask. I could paint a dozen different faces on you and it would still be you underneath…”

"Why would you want a faceless man?" Jaqen asked and Arya shook her head. 

“Your face means nothing, it’s not important to me. It’s not about what I need, Jaqen. It’s about what I want, what’s _under_ the mask. And that’s you!”

Jaqen turned her at the moment and kissed her on the lips, kissing away the salty tears. She returned the kiss, turning over and wrapping her arms around his neck, still on the edge of crying but she couldn’t help herself, even if lacking air, she couldn’t stop.

“I don’t care about the face…” she said, breathless, while Jaqen lifted her up, her feet in the air.

“I don’t, Jaqen…” she managed to say, slipping her hands under his shirt, touching his hot skin. She undid the straps, revealing his chest, pressing her lips against it, feeling him shiver. Jaqen was making Arya gasp when his tongue ran down her neck, his fingers slowly unbuttoning her vest.

“I want _you_ , Jaqen,” Arya kept repeating to his ear while he knelt down, taking the vest off her. The cold evening air gave Arya goose bumps. Jaqen watched her bare chest for a second or two. He cupped her left breast then, sucking the nipple slowly and Arya widened her eyes, gasping again. He licked her right breast afterwards, his rough tongue sending the shivers down to her stomach.

“Are you afraid?” he asked, sliding his hands down her hips to the line of her pants. Arya kept trembling under his touches but she leaned forward, feeling the urge to be as close to him as possible, pressing her lips against the skin on his stomach, tasting the well-known scent of it.

“Don’t stop,” she said, while his hands were descending down her belly.

“Don’t stop…” she repeated, when he touched her between her legs. She was lying on the ground, his fingers running down the inner side of her tights and up again. Arya had her eyes closed, listening to Jaqen’s heavy breathing. She embraced him again, drawing him towards her. She scratched his back with her fingernails, leaving red marks there. She felt his hot breath against her skin; she heard his heart beating fast.

“You are everything, Arya…”

Arya gasped loudly when he got inside her with one single thrust. He stayed like that for a brief moment, letting the pain fade, bowing to kiss her neck softly; as he started moving in and out her slowly. After each thrust Arya gasped, holding his arms tightly, feeling the pain lessening while the pleasure extending.

“I want you…”

“I want every bit of you…”

Jaqen slipped an arm under her back, lifting her even closer to him, his hot, sweating body crushing hers, with Arya biting his shoulder, groaning. She wanted to stay like this forever, with him so close to her, like they were two parts of one whole.

She had no idea how long it could have been, when Jaqen suddenly stayed motionless, his breath shaky, holding her in a tight embrace. Arya relaxed too, breathing in the same pace as he was, like it weren’t two people breathing but one.

Jaqen stroke her head softly then, placing kisses on it, inhaling the scent from her hair. Arya kissed his cheek gently, touching his face with her fingertips, running them through his hair.

“I want you, Jaqen,” she said one last time and kissed his closed eyes.

“My love…” she added almost inaudibly, leaning her head on Jaqen’s shoulder.

“I’m yours, Jaqen,” she said, closing her eyes. “And you are mine…”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I've rewritten it, wasn't satisfied with it either. That's the lack of time for re-reading and editing, ha ha. This is the final version, though.  
> And yes, I've done it. I didn't let Arya have an orgasm when it's her first time, I don't think even Jaqen is good enough and this is no Fifty Shades Of Grey. But it'll come in time, of course :-)  
> Hope you like, drop a comment, let me know.  
> And thanks for all the commenting and "kudoing", I'm really glad you enjoy it!


	34. The Man

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Part II - The Training

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Please, re-read the previous chapter first, it has been rewritten completely :-) Thank youuuuu!

Arya woke up with the sound of horse hooves clapping. She opened her eyes slowly. The first thing she saw was Jaqen’s face. Surprised, she realized he was still sleeping. That was highly unusual for him. They were still on the floor, lying in a close embrace, naked under the blanket.

Arya remembered the last night and her heart raced with the memory, her mind spinning a little.

Had it really happened? Considering the naked Jaqen lying beside her, it either happened or they were lying there without any clothes on for no particular reason…

Arya smiled unwittingly while watching Jaqen’s face that seemed calmer than ever before, although still looking a bit tired. Arya enjoyed looking at him, at his arms, his shoulders, his red hair falling over his closed eyes, the shadows on his chest that was slowly moving up and down. She leaned forward eventually, kissing his cheek. He opened his eyes then, looking at her.

“Hi,” Arya said, not thinking about anything better to say. Jaqen gave her a small smirk. He kissed her on the lips softly, stroking her hair.

“Have you slept well?”

“It was definitely the best night on such a cold stable floor I’ve ever had,” Arya said, grinning teasingly. Jaqen snorted, amused. He looked up, noticing the horses nearby.

“I don’t dare to imagine what they thought about it…” he mumbled. Arya laughed briefly.

“Nuvian’s understanding,” she said.

“Nuvian is yours to deal with, but I ride Sypherion almost every day,” Jaqen said.

“He’ll understand too,” Arya assured him. Jaqen shook his head and got up, the blanket slipping down from him. Arya looked up at him, not able to take her eyes off his body. The strange, pleasant shivering she remembered from the previous night started tickling her in her stomach again.

Jaqen put on his pants and raised an eyebrow when noticing her stare.

“What are you looking at?” he asked.

“You,” Arya admitted. Jaqen pouted slowly. He bowed suddenly, grabbing her and lifting her up in the air. Arya yelped but couldn’t stop a smile growing on her face.

“That’s the look of a predator,” he said and Arya narrowed her eyes.

“I am one,” she said quietly to his ear. Jaqen chuckled, putting her down.

“Indeed you are. Dress yourself, little girl,” he said. “Let’s stop making the horses so uncomfortable.”

Arya did that, walking out of the stable to the courtyard, finding Jaqen by the well, washing. She stood up on the edge of the well, bowing and kissing his neck before washing her face with the cold water too.

“We could go swimming in the afternoon,” Arya suggested. It was one of the many advantages of Lorath being an island city; the sea was all around them.

“I don’t think so,” Jaqen said.

“You’ll go and you know it,” Arya said, her voice firm. She could see the flash in his blue eyes.

Arya made breakfast then – fruits and the juice of grapes – serving it in the pleasant coldness of their kitchen. She put her hands on Jaqen’s bare shoulders when refilling his cup.

“The perfect housemaid,” Jaqen remarked and Arya frowned, kicking his leg lightly.

“Did I make you upset?” he wondered and Arya narrowed her eyes even more but he silenced her with another kiss, grabbing her by her waist and pulling over his lap.

“I wouldn’t allow you to become a housemaid, don’t worry about that.”

“I wouldn’t become one, that’s the end of the story,” Arya said but didn’t remove herself from his embrace, leaning her head against his chest.

“Jaqen?”

“Yes?”

“I’ve noticed something…”

“And what is it?”

“I can’t remember the last time I heard you speak about _a man_ , referring to yourself.”

There was silence and Arya shook her head slightly.

“Do you even know you stopped using it completely?”

“No,” he said eventually, “I haven’t noticed.”

Arya smiled.

“What do you think it means?”

Jaqen remained silent, evidently waiting for her to speak. Arya turned, looking into his blue eyes there were staring right back at her. She wrapped her arms around his neck, kissing his lips.

“You know what it means, don’t you?” she asked then. Jaqen’s hand stroke her back gently.

“When you’re so smart, my little girl, tell me,” he prodded her, his voice smooth and quiet.

“You stopped being just _a man_ ,” Arya said. “You’re now _the man_. You’re Jaqen.”

He didn’t say anything but Arya knew he saw it in the same way; he maybe just needed a bit more time to accept it. Especially after last night when he simply couldn’t maintain his usual composure anymore. And it was just about the right time because Arya had almost stopped believing he would ever take the veil off.

Arya knew she would never forget the night. Not only because it had been the first time they slept together, it was the first time Jaqen let her see _inside_ him, the first time he truly opened to her, the first time he actually really trusted her so much he’d allowed her to see into his soul, to see his desires and his fears…

Arya knew one thing for sure. She loved the man behind the curtain.

“What are you thinking about?” he asked. Arya shook her head.

“I won’t ever forget the night,” she said quietly, running her fingers over his temples.

“Neither will I,” he said, kissing her softly.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> One of the last chaps of Part II. Hope you like, I wanted something a bit more... light this time.   
> Enjoy, drop a comment and thanks for reading!


	35. Answers

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Part II - The Training

Arya was sitting by a stone, polishing her sword. It was an early morning and they had just finished practicing. The sun was rising, which was always impressive in the wasteland around Lorath. Jaqen was leaning against a rock nearby, rubbing his left forearm. Arya noticed that.

“Does it hurt?”

“No,” Jaqen said, letting go of his arm.

“That’s for underestimating me,” Arya said, satisfied and Jaqen glared at her, flashes in his eyes.

“I like Lorath. I wouldn’t mind staying a little longer, till it gets boring…”

“We can stay,” Jaqen agreed. Fresh sun beams were enlightening his face as he was looking upon the horizon.

There were a few old, abandoned fishing villages around Lorath. People were forced to flee inside the city walls after sea robbers’ attacks. Although Lorath had again been a relatively peaceful city, the villages had never been rebuild, the rotten pieces of it still clinging to the shore. Perfect for practicing…

They had fought in such a village that night. Each strike of the fight was quickly followed by another, without any hesitation. Arya didn’t do a single mistake, running in the ruins, hiding and attacking again. Even in the complete darkness around, she knew exactly where to hit. Even after he threw the sword out of her hand, she fought with her bare hands and feet.

She knew Jaqen hadn’t had to keep it down this time; he was fighting like he actually would with any other opponent. He eventually overpowered her, but not quite as easily as before…

“Arya,” he called her back to the presence. She found him nearby, gesturing her to come closer. There was a tottering yellow kitten in the size of a smaller dog.

“That’s a sand cat,” Arya said, amused. “I’m surprised to see it here; there are probably just a few of them on this island. Did you see the fangs?”

“This kitten wouldn’t hurt you yet,” Jaqen said. Arya chuckled.

“No more than scratching my hand… But imagine it grown up, they’re deadly!”

Arya looked up at him.

“Can I keep it?”

Jaqen laughed briefly.

“We’re already travelling with two horses, a lizard and your raven. Do you really think what we need is a huge cat?”

Arya frowned, ignoring the mocking look of his blue eyes.

“I’d manage,” she said, watching the kitten sizzling at her and bristling.

“It’s cute…” Arya mumbled, when suddenly she heard something roar loudly. She jumped back, drawing her sword out, noticing a large cat running towards them, shielding the kitten.

“Retreat slowly…” Jaqen said quietly. They walked backwards, their eyes still on the cat. When they were far enough and back on their horses, Arya breathed out. The cat actually scared her a little… Well, surely she would still manage…

Later that night Arya was in her bed, naked as the night was hot, reading a book. Jaqen hadn’t come back home yet. He’d been absent-minded for the last couple of weeks and Arya had an idea why. The fact they were in the city of his birth didn’t leave him unaffected, although his attitude claimed otherwise.

_I wasn’t alive till I met you, my love. I didn’t hear my heart beating till I heard yours, my love… You looked into my heart. And my heart started beating for you, my love…_

Slowly, Arya started dozing off, when she suddenly woke up. She knew Jaqen had come back, although he didn’t make any sound. Arya walked down, staying in the entrance door, looking at him as he stood back to her on the courtyard. She approached him, embracing him from behind. He turned, bowing, his gloved hands on her back.

“Vissya…” he said and Arya reached for his shoulders, giving him a long kiss, sliding her hands down his arms. She always liked doing that, she liked feeling his muscles and the warmness of his skin under the leather sleeves.

“Vissya,” she said, shivering with pleasure as his hands were slowly sliding down her back. She led him to the bedroom, undressing him in the process. She climbed on top of him, even in the dark room aware of the creases on his forehead, creases that sometimes appeared and never meant anything good. She bowed, kissing them, trying to erase them, while his tongue was making its way between her breasts, the hot touch of it sending the pleasant tickling all over her body.  

They made love slowly that night. Arya buried her face against Jaqen’s neck, holding his hand in hers, her other hand stroking his temple.

“Ita un gyallar…” she was whispering tenderly to his ear. _I am yours._

She was pressing herself close to him, unifying their breathing and heart beating, her half-opened mouth stuck on his shoulder.

“Ita un gyallar…”

Surprisingly, after they finished, Jaqen didn’t leave, but stayed by her side, embracing her from behind. Before Arya could fall asleep, he woke her up with his low, vibrating voice near her ear.

 “There is a reason why I showed you the cat,” he said quietly. “I wanted you to see, Arya, who you were and who you’ve become.”

Arya kept listening to him closely.

“You don’t need this anymore,” he said, handing her something. Arya took it; it was the scarf he used to blindfold her with. She didn’t know what to say. She could feel the joy growing inside her, but at the same, she felt like something had just ended, the unspecified feeling of sorrow spoiling the joy.

“I owe you an answer too, Arya,” he continued breathing out to her ear. “I forgot almost everything that happened before I’ve become a faceless man. Those memories were covered in dust; they weren’t supposed to ever come into the light again.”

Jaqen paused for a second.

“But they came suddenly and I’ve started remembering. Slowly, but I have. And the cause of it is you.”

Arya was still listening to his voice, stunned.

“From the first time I’ve seen you. _You_ make me remember.”

She turned, looking up at him. Jaqen lowered his eyes to her, a feeble smirk slowly appearing on his lips, as he was witnessing her shock and speechlessness with the usual mixture of amusement and understanding. Although Arya longed to know _what_ he had remembered, she knew it could take him time to share – if he actually would share it with her.  

“Gyan rhaadarite unn sadom,” he said. _You looked into my heart._

Arya breathed in abruptly, wrapping her arms around him, pressing her lips against his neck, breathing in the scent of his skin.

“An sadom totre vosti gya,” Arya replied. _And my heart beats for you._

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> OK, this was the last chap of the Part II. I'd really appreciate if you shared your opinion on this part before I post the third part. Tell me what you think.   
> Hope you like so far, thanks for reading, enjoy and drop a comment.   
> Thanks :-)


	36. Unified

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Part III - Shadow Of The Past

Iotan was walking across the hall in his palace, creases forming on his forehead. The door of the hall suddenly opened, three of his guards running in.

“Have you found them yet?” he asked immediately.

“No, my lord. They fled.”

“Keep looking for them,” Iotan said, angry. “Guard every entrance to this palace.”

“Yes, my lord,” they said, leaving. Iotan stayed only with his personal guards. He walked over the window, looking down at the distant streets. They could be just anywhere…

At the moment, a girl’s head appeared behind the window, her face painted with black ornaments.

“There she is! Kill her!”

His guards moved to the window, while the girl walked further on the moulding. Iotan watched her in shock, noticing her slender, lean body in black, close-fitting clothes. She looked like a stray cat, but her eyes were indeed deadly.

His guards somehow got out of the window, but they hardly were as nimble as her.

“Kill her! Haven’t you heard me, Aldur?!” Iotan shouted at a tall guard standing behind him. Puzzled, he stared into his eyes, the only part of his face visible under the helmet.

“Aldur?”

The guard moved forward swiftly, drawing his sword and sinking it into Iotan’s heart. He turned, briskly walking to the door, passing by two guards there.

“Aama zarite?” they asked. _What’s the order?_

“Cardas an mari,” he answered. _Guard the doors._

The guard was quickly making his way out of the palace, his steps not making any sound at all. He got to the stables, getting on a horse and prodding it to run. They were running on a road circling around the palace. He looked up, noticing three guards on a small balcony, fighting a girl standing on the roof above them. She managed to stab one of them and threw the second off the balcony; meanwhile the third raised an arm, intending to stab her side.

The guard bellow drew out his knife in a split second, throwing it at him and hitting his neck, so the third guard fell off the roof as well. The girl started climbing down quickly.

A group of more soldiers had found them. The guard started fighting them, although outnumbered; nobody was able to get behind him. Then the girl jumped down from the roof, killing two guards quickly.

“Get on the horse,” he said. She nodded and he lashed at the first line of guards so they backed off, while he got up into the saddle in front of her, running away.

“Did you like my performance?” she asked, holding him around his waist.

“Impressive,” he said and she kissed his neck, licking it teasingly with her tongue.

They reached an abandoned barn near the border of the city. Two stallions, a grey one and a black one, had been waiting for them inside, darting out immediately they got into their saddles. With them, the guards lost every chance to catch them.

They left the city behind and entered the wasteland. With the evening upon them, they slowed the pace down. He removed the helmet then, dropping it on the ground.

“How long it’ll take back to Lorath?” Arya asked.

“A couple of days,” Jaqen answered. A man in Lorath ordered to have Iotan murdered; only Iotan lived in a small city on the mainland. But the price was too tempting to refuse.

They stopped near a few low trees and rocks to let the horses rest. Arya jumped down, stretching. Jaqen neared her silently, wrapping an arm around her waist, pressing her back against a rock. Arya gasped, tilting her head back to look at him.

“I like the painting,” he said quietly, his eyes shifting and observing it with amusement. He copied the ornament on her temple with his tongue.

“Where else did you paint it?” he asked, lowering his eyes to her.

Arya smiled slowly, not breaking their eye contact. She turned, revealing her neck, where the ornaments were continuing. Jaqen started copying them with his tongue, while his fingers found their way under Arya’s vest and shirt to her breasts.

“Don’t,” he whispered, when she wanted to raise her arm. He sucked her nipple and air got stuck in Arya’s lungs, as she hissed, trembling.

“Don’t move,” he said, taking the vest off her shoulders, descending while still following the painting, taking her pants off slowly, and when his tongue reached her between her legs, Arya held her breath; biting her lower lip.

“Jaqen…” she uttered his name. Staying motionless while feeling such burning pleasure was almost impossible.

Suddenly, Jaqen grabbed her, pushing her against the rock. She yelped when he slid an arm under her lower back, getting inside her with one deep, hard thrust.

“Yes?” he said quietly, looking into her eyes. Arya caught hold of his arms, lifting her look.

“Don’t stop,” she said and a small pout appeared on Jaqen’s lips as he started thrusting, harder and harder. He held her tightly and she had almost no space for breathing, but yet it didn’t feel close enough and Arya was pressing herself against him to be even closer, giving a groan after each thrust. She was clutching his arms firmly, her fingernails sunk in his skin.

“Don’t stop,” she breathed out, wanting him to continue as long as possible, watching with her half-lidded eyes his broad shoulders moving forcefully, feeling the strength of his body against her.

“Don’t…”

He was crushing her and she didn’t want him to stop. And then, at one moment, the pleasure reached the top and Arya gasped, squeezing her eyes shut, gritting her teeth. Jaqen stopped moving too and they stayed like that for a couple of minutes. Arya was hanging on him, completely exhausted. Jaqen was breathing heavily too, his shoulders and arms hot and sweating and she felt his heart beating fast.

“It’s kind of amusing if I imagine Iotan’s guards would find us at this moment,” Arya remarked, her voice weak.

Jaqen laughed.

“I believe they would want to see what was under the clothes of the black cat,” Jaqen said. “Which would give _me_ time to get rid of them.”

“Who knows, maybe they also wanted to see what’s under _your_ armor,” Arya said, teasingly.

Jaqen glared at her and Arya kissed him to make amends, holding his head in her hands and then sliding her hands down, stroking his back. Jaqen returned the kiss tenderly and got up. Arya watched him walking naked to the pile of their clothes, his tall figure towering against the shady rocks, washed by the light of the late evening.

“Jaqen,” Arya said, forcing herself to shift her eyes away from his body. He turned at her.

“You better put the clothes on,” she said. “I wouldn’t survive a second round.”

Jaqen chuckled, smirking.

“We’ll try that soon, tasashe.”

Arya smiled lightly. _Tasashe_ was a word in old Braavos that couldn’t be translated properly to any other language. Arya’s book about Braavos language had this explanation of the word: You only say it when you look at someone and you feel like looking at a part of yourself. Only to someone you would breathe for, kill for or die for, only to someone whose blood you feel pulsing in your own veins. Only such a person you would call _tasashe_.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> First chap of the third part. Don't get the idea I'll now finish every chap with them having sex, not that I wouldn't wish them to, but I guess it'd get a bit boring soon :-) It serves as a part of the opening here so I hope you like it and let me know in the comments again :))  
> Thanks for reading and enjoy!  
> PS: Beside other things, the third part should dig a bit more into Jaqen's past, at least a little bit :-)


	37. Cell

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Shadow Of The Past

Although Lorath was rather a quiet city, that didn’t mean it was a kind one. One day Arya was walking to the market when a street riot blocked her way. People were shouting, throwing things at an older man.

“He’s a sorcerer!”

“He’s murdered our children. Flay him, flay him alive!”

Arya was watching the people harassing him but nobody dared to touch him.

“Don’t touch him, he’s _unclear_ ,” a woman told Arya when she got too close.

Arya was used to all kinds of horrors, she’d seen so many terrible things, yet that incident stayed with her, the image of the bloodied man being hunted by the crowd still in front of her eyes.

An arm touched her hip suddenly, his lips brushing against her cheek lightly.

“Buying something?” Jaqen asked and Arya shook her head.

“There’s been a riot today.”

“I know,” he said. “The man is already dead.”

“What did they do to him?”

“Cut his head,” Jaqen answered. “His children have been _spared_ but will remain imprisoned till they die.”

“Haven’t you said _spared_? And I thought Lorath was a nice city,” Arya remarked. Jaqen snorted.

“A city can be nice,” he said. “But people certainly are not.”

“It was a nasty thing to see,” Arya said. “The crowd was so dull, like their brains were clouded with stupidity.”

Jaqen pouted, lowering his eyes to her. Arya sighed.

“And what does it even mean, _unclear_? He didn’t wash his feet or what? I really hate people like this. Such foolishness is the worst enemy of a man. How come so many people are so damn obtuse?”

Arya looked up at him with anger.

“I want to help the kids,” she said and Jaqen stopped pouting but raised an eyebrow.

“Do you want me to explain why we will not do that?”

“I don’t care,” Arya said, looking him in the eyes. “You know it’ll be easy for us, we can manage just fine and still be home for dinner.”

“Have you really thought that through, Arya? Once you save them, there’s the question of what to do with them.”

“Sailors would take care of them. They never ask questions.”

“That’s not a particularly happy life either,” Jaqen objected.

“Worse than life imprisonment? Why couldn’t we use our capability for something good too?”

Jaqen shook his head with disapproval but Arya laid a hand on his forearm. Jaqen kept looking at her for a few more seconds before sighing and rolling his eyes. Arya smiled widely, stepping on her toes and giving him a kiss. Jaqen unwittingly wrapped arms around her waist.

“Not here, Jaqen,” Arya said and he laughed softly while they continued kissing.

“Is there something wrong with the place?”

“No,” Arya said, licking teasingly his lower lip. “I’m only not quite comfortable with the stare of the fat man behind me.”

Jaqen looked there, sparks of amusement flashing in his eyes.

“Thank you, Jaqen,” Arya said then. “I’m glad you will come with me.”

Jaqen ran his hand through her hair.

“I wouldn’t let you go alone…”

It was easy to get into the prison but finding the kids was a bit more difficult. Jaqen said murdering the guards would have been an unnecessary, too attention-drawing kill, so he only stunned them, gagged them and tied them, hiding them all in a dark corner. They were walking through the dungeons then, the tunnel enlightened only by faintly burning torches.

Jaqen was leading her as they were descending deeper and deeper. Dressed like guards they blended in fine. As they were passing by numerous other prisoners, Arya rather looked away from their gaunt faces.

Suddenly, Jaqen stopped in front of a seemingly empty, dark cell. It was sunk in darkness on purpose, as Jaqen had explained her.

_“As the children of an unclean, their very faces are banned. Light must never touch them again. Their faces must stay in darkness forever.”_

“The keys,” he said and she handed him a bunch of keys stolen from the warden. Jaqen unlocked the bars, opening it. Arya walked inside, noticing the silent breathing immediately, turning after it.

“We’re here to help,” she said. “Come and be quiet.”

Arya took care of them on their way back and they managed to get them out safely and without any stir. Arya had already spoken to the captain of one of the ships leaving that night, a captain that seemed the most _normal_ to her, and he was waiting for them at the harbor.

“Let me look at them…” he mumbled, watching the two small boys closely.

“They surely bashed them up,” he added, noticing several bruises, scratches and black eyes on the boys. He eventually took them, though, and Arya with Jaqen went home. Arya fell on the bed then, closing her eyes. Surprisingly enough, she didn’t feel much better after saving them than she had felt before.

“What are you thinking of?” Jaqen asked, walking in the bedroom.

“Things I definitely shouldn’t think of. But sometimes I can’t help it.”

She breathed in deeply.

“I can’t understand how anyone could beat a five year old boy, unclean or not. I simply don’t get it.”

Jaqen bowed above her, kissing her softly on the lips. Arya wrapped her arms around his neck, pulling him on the bed. She embraced him in a close hug, with her arms and legs around him. Jaqen closed his eyes, relaxing, which was usually the closest thing to actual sleep he was capable of.

“It used to be my cell too,” Jaqen said without opening his eyes. “Since my father had also been found _unclean_.”

Arya raised an eyebrow in surprise, shocked he’d spoken about such a thing all of the sudden.

“What happened to him?” she asked.

“He’d met the same end like the man today.”

“And you?”

“Well,” Jaqen said with irony, “there was no Arya to rescue me. After a couple of years I managed to escape. Somebody recognized my face twice. For the third time, though, I silenced them before they could open their mouths.”   

Judging by the tone of his voice, Arya recognized he’d been done talking for that day, so she didn’t ask any more. She recalled the two beaten, frightened boys in the cell. Lowering her eyes to Jaqen’s face, she was trying to connect the two images together.

It seemed almost impossible…

She cuddled up to him then, feeling the scent of his skin again, the most beloved scent in the world. The dim dawn was slowly crawling into the opened window; meanwhile they remained still in the tight embrace, both of them instinctively craving for the physical closeness. Jaqen let her stroke his temples with her fingertips and she occasionally placed a soft kiss on his cheek or lips.

“Who would you like to save today?” Jaqen asked and Arya snorted.

“Fine, make fun of me. However, I saw a hurt donkey yesterday that needs our help. Also, there is a family threatening to kill a bunch of kittens. We must save them, Jaqen, _please!_ ”

Jaqen opened his eyes, giving her a long stare, before Arya burst out laughing and he shook his head with a smirk.

“I haven’t been training you so long to run a menagerie in the end,” he remarked dryly with Arya keeping laughing. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Jaqen shares so rarely... He'll do it more often, I promise :-)  
> Hope you like and drop a comment.  
> Thanks for reading, commenting and kudos and enjoy!


	38. Escape

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Part III - Shadow Of The Past

Arya emerged, taking a deep breath, opening her eyes. Sea water felt especially good after that hot day. She kept floating on her back for a few more minutes, listening to the dull, evening noises coming from the distant city. She liked how Lorath sounded at this time. Calm yet alive…

At this time, she was thinking how easy it would be to simply let it all behind her, stop longing for revenge and live a life like that. The fire burning inside her, urging her to avenge her family seemed to be slowly dying out.

Arya walked on the beach, squeezing water out of her hair. She didn’t have to look up to know Jaqen was approaching her from the shadows of the wasteland, unheard and unseen as usual. In complete silence he neared her, his gloved hand wrapping around her waist, pulling her closer and he kissed her while she was holding her wet hair away.

“Still looking after me?” she asked softly. Jaqen looked her in the eyes.

“I know you can take care of yourself now,” he said, pouting. “There are other things I enjoy.”

“Like what?”

“Like a she-wolf taking a bath.”

Jaqen’s eyes travelled over Arya’s body, the look in them a mixture of desire and affection, when they stopped, focusing on a deep purple bruise on her hip, and his eyes hazed with the echo of worries. With an unpleasant feeling Arya remembered the moment a few days ago she had almost got killed if it weren’t for Jaqen.

_They were to kill a rich merchant who had most probably the best guards Arya fought in ages. She was fighting five of them at once and got a little carried away, when suddenly one of the guards tossed her aside harshly. Before she could pull herself together, he rushed forward, intending to stab her in the heart._

_Arya was shielded by Jaqen, who cut the guard’s head off with one swift slash, killing the remaining guards in a few minutes. He turned quickly then._

_“Are you hurt?” he asked. Arya shook her head and saw the visible relief in Jaqen’s expression._

_“You are far better than them, Arya, but that doesn’t mean you can afford to lose focus,” Jaqen said, evidently trying not to sound too patronizing. Arya nodded, feeling this rebuke was justified._

_Jaqen leaned forward and gave her a small kiss on her cheek._

_“Don’t make me worry so, tasashe,” he said, still reproaching a little bit, but it was mixed with affection this time._

_“Do you know how bored you’d be?” she said apologetically, with a slight smirk. Jaqen’s lips curled into a small pout and Arya kissed him tenderly, running a hand through his hair._

The sun had been gone, the sky getting deep red. Jaqen embraced her then.

“I saw your face a while ago,” he said quietly then while their cheeks were touching. “What were you thinking about?”

Arya smiled slightly.

“You’d laugh at me if you knew.”

“I think the time to go back to Westeros is coming,” Jaqen said and Arya looked at him with surprise. She had forgotten about Westeros completely.

“Do you have nothing to say?” he asked and Arya shook her head.

“I just… somehow… didn’t think of it…”

Jaqen was looking her in the eyes, narrowing his lightly.

“I’ve noticed,” he said calmly. Arya was silent, realizing with quite a shock she hadn’t thought about coming back to Westeros in months.

“But I guess,” she started, “we should go back…”

“Take some time,” Jaqen said. “Decide what you want, tasashe.”

But Arya had already taken a lot of time and she still hadn’t come to any decision… And it was difficult to focus on making a decision when Jaqen took off his glove while he kept kissing her and his bare fingers stroke her wet back.

On their way back, Arya was still deep in thoughts. When they got to the stable and jumped off the horses, Jaqen suddenly caught her, looking at the empty, dark courtyard. Arya didn’t say anything but felt her body tensing as she was alerting her senses immediately. Jaqen looked into her eyes once and Arya saw the danger was high, even for them.

Jaqen slowly approached the house with Arya following him, clutching a dagger in her hand. At the moment he walked in the door, Jaqen stopped abruptly, raising an arm and stopping her too.

“Sakihpa nithahasi enaran,” he said quietly and Arya’s heart started beating fast. She got rarely scared these days, but this frightened her indeed. It wasn’t a bunch of mere robbers when Jaqen was telling her to leave immediately. Never before had he said those words, using such a grave tone. It was a signal for her to move to Braavos, the place they’d agreed on previously, in cases of severe danger.

“I don’t – “

He shot her a glare that killed the words in her throat instantly but made her blood rush with anxiety. It was like an icy hand clutching her heart. Arya had had it her way many times before, even disobeying him sometimes, but she knew at that moment she had to do what he said.

She breathed in deeply, nodding once. Before turning away, she leaned forward and kissed him, her heart beating fast with fear. He returned the kiss but his eyes stayed hard when he looked at her again.

“Zeya, ita gye ashkante,” he said. _Go, I’ll find you_.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hope you like and drop a comment.  
> Thanks for reading, commenting and kudos and enjoy!


	39. My Heart, My Love

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Part III - Shadow Of The Past

It wasn’t hard to get to Braavos. It wasn’t hard to find a house to live in or work to do. It wasn’t hard to stay discreet, unseen, unheard, the shadow. It wasn’t hard to avoid raising any suspicions and stay safe.

It was hard, though, to function when Arya had absolutely no idea where Jaqen had been and when he was coming back. Months had passed without any news about him. Arya knew she had to keep her mind clear, she had to hold on. She was sure she could manage on her own. That was making it even worse – she felt like the absolute opposite.

Where was he? Was he fine? Was he alive? Was he ever coming back?

During the time in Braavos, when Nuvian was the only living thing Arya occasionally spoke to, she was doing what Jaqen had once told her. She was getting to know the place, the people and places, the secret net and the biggest spiders in it. At night when she couldn’t sleep, she was remembering Jaqen’s presence, the touch of his hands, his lips on her skin, his heart beating next to hers. And it was scary for her to realize she had never thought about those things not being there anymore.

_Some time ago, on a way from Norvos, Arya woke up in the middle of the night, lying on the sand in desert. She looked up and saw Jaqen sitting next to her, his eyes fixed upon the fire._

_“What happened?” Jaqen asked, suspicious, when he noticed her expression._

_“I…”_

_Arya gulped, shaking her head._

_“Nothing,” she muttered._

_“Don’t lie,” Jaqen said. “What did you dream about?”_

_“Please Jaqen, don’t make me speak,” Arya pleaded. Jaqen tilted his head on side._

_“Why are you so afraid of telling me?” he asked. “What is worrying you?”_

_“I… I… had a dream about you… You were looking at me and you had no… face… at all…”_

_Arya breathed in, hesitating._

_“I think… No I don’t think… Well, I don’t know – if you change your face again and keep it and if you change your name again and your whole identity – I simply don’t know what would happen to me then…”_

_Arya fell silent, hoping he would understand._

_“It’s not that I’d want you to be so handsome again but – hey, I didn’t mean it that way, it sounds so stupid…”_

_Arya shook her head, looking away._

_“I know I said I didn’t care about it and in a way I still don’t, but…”_

_“I’ve said it once, wolf-girl,” Jaqen said and Arya slowly looked at him._

_“I’ve said I could be Jaqen H’ghar for you. I’ve accepted his face and name.”_

_“But is it who you want to be?”_

_Arya paused._

_“Is Jaqen who you truly are?” she whispered._

_Jaqen remained silent but he wouldn’t break their eye contact either. Flames were reflecting in his reddish hair and the fire was flickering deep in his eyes._

_“I like being him,” he said eventually and his voice was quiet and honest. “Using his name and his face.”_

_His eyes met hers._

_“Jaqen is who I want to be next to you.”_

_Arya was watching him before kneeling on the ground in front of him and giving him a long, soft kiss. Although he didn’t move, he was kissing her too, slowly and gently._

_“Jaqen is who I am…”_

Arya returned to the present time, her heart aching with the feeling of his absence. As she was uselessly waiting for slumber, she got up from her bed and went downstairs, breathing in the air of night. She was thinking of Jaqen's unknown whereabouts, realizing that those doubts were maybe much more painful than knowing. She hated the possibility she couldn't be with him, that she couldn't do anything but wait. 

He simply _had to_ come back. If something was to happen to him, Arya knew with certainty she wouldn't stop till the last man responsible would be dead. Even the thought of it was bringing hate and anger into her mind. 

Suddenly, she sensed something was wrong. Nuvian was restless, snorting in the stable nearby, and Arya could feel someone’s dangerously close presence. Most probably right behind the gate.

Arya took out her sword, narrowing her eyes and listening to the noises. The gate slowly opened and she saw a figure walking in, recognizing him in the following moment.

_“Jaqen!”_

She rushed forward with her heart beating fast with euphoria. They embraced, Arya pressed her lips against his, taking his head to her hands, while Jaqen’s arms wrapped around her tightly. They kept hugging each other in silence, the great relief he was alive washing over Arya, taking away the fear.

“Tasashe,” Arya whispered to his ear.

“Nanichi,” he breathed out to hers. _My heart. My love._

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hope you like and drop a comment.  
> Thanks for reading, commenting and kudos and enjoy!


	40. Reunion

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Part III - Shadow Of The Past

Within the whole time of Arya’s training, the thought of the Ruthraya had crossed Arya’s mind once or twice. She wasn’t aware at all that Jaqen had been keeping them away the whole time, watching them, escaping them, foreseeing their next moves and carefully planning their own. They would never stop pursuing them but Jaqen had been able to always be a step ahead.

Until they visited Lorath and stayed too long. And they had finally found them.

He let her go so he could face them, leading them as far from Braavos as possible. Only then would he return. He wouldn’t tell but Arya could see that had been a close one. He wasn’t lying when he’d said it was almost impossible to kill at least one of the three. But he did manage to lure them away and make his return untraceable. They were safe for some time.

Arya was lying next to Jaqen on the bed, watching his exhausted face with dark purple circles under his closed eyes. She saw the bruises and numerous cuts and wounds on his dark skin, many of those she had already tended to while he’d been sleeping. He had never been sleeping for so long and it was making her worry. She didn’t leave his side, though, stroking gently his arms and his face, running fingers through his hair.

But even if he’d been in such a bad shape, Arya was incredibly happy to have him so close to her once more. She cuddled up to him, putting her head on his slowly moving chest and listening to his heartbeat. There was no sound in the world she would love more.

Two days had passed without Jaqen waking up or Arya getting up from the bed. All she needed was being close to him, as close to him as possible, _feeling_ him. He put an arm around her in his sleep, embracing her unwittingly. His skin was hot as if he’d been battling an illness but it could have been caused by the exhaustion too.

For the whole time she had been sure about one thing. The fear. The fear she felt, fear of losing him, the fear of being alone again. And she knew she would never get rid of that fear, as long as her heart was beating next to his.

“This must be very boring…”

Arya blinked and turned her head. Jaqen was watching her with half-lidded eyes.

“What?” Arya asked, too happy and overwhelmed to say something cleverer.

“Watching me sleep,” he answered, the tone of his voice low and muffled. Arya smirked softly.

“Quite the contrary,” she said and leaned forward, kissing his lips slowly.

“I love watching you sleep,” she whispered into his ear. “Because you are here next to me…”

Jaqen grunted almost inaudibly, stroking her cheek with his hot palm. Arya handed him a cup and let him drink.

“What is that?”

“Remedy I made,” Arya said. “It’ll help you.”

Jaqen gave her a look that was partially wondering and partially amused but finished the remedy without further questions.  

“I will be fine,” he said when noticing her concerned expression.

“I only need to rest for a while.”

“Of course,” Arya said. “Is it safe here? I did my best to avoid any attention.”

“Yes. You did well. We can stay for a month or two. And then we must leave.”

Arya nodded and stayed silent while Jaqen was looking her deep in the eyes. She knew there was something serious on his mind but she almost didn’t want to hear it.

“I know you liked Lorath,” he said then. “I felt you perhaps wouldn’t mind staying there, even if you wouldn’t admit it. But we will never be able to do that. _Never_. They will keep pursuing us till we die.”

Jaqen’s eyes were stuck in Arya’s, the faint glow in them hard and cold.

“If you’re saying this to make me go away, you’re wasting your time,” Arya said, her voice firm.

“I want to travel the world by your side,” she continued, lowering to his face. “Maybe I was thinking about staying somewhere, but now I know I’m not meant to.”

She smiled and kissed his cheek.

“I’m a wolf, don’t you remember? Wolfs don’t make homes. They don’t build houses.”

Jaqen’s lips slowly curled into a little, soft smirk.

“I thought you would say that,” he said quietly, his fingers going through Arya’s hair, his blue eyes fixed upon her face.

“I’m so happy you’re back,” Arya said after a while, shaking her head a little. “You scared me, to tell the truth.”

“I’m sorry…”

Arya kissed him on the lips and he returned it with passion, wrapping his strong arms around her and quickly rolling her over. She looked up at him, her eyes slightly widened.

“What is it, little girl?” he asked, raising an eyebrow.

“Are you surprised?”

Arya narrowed her eyes immediately.

“I really don’t know why you are asking, considering you were laying here like a tired, old man, barely moving. Seems to me you were pretending it just to appear more – “

Jaqen stopped her by a kiss and Arya held her breath, feeling the well-known ticking in her stomach. Jaqen started undoing the straps on her vest and his hand slowly made its way to her pants, the other hand touching her left breast, while he kept kissing her all over her neck.

Arya took a deep breath, sinking her nails to his back.

“You’ve made good remedy, _tasashe_ ,” Jaqen whispered to her ear, his tone low and vibrating, while Arya inhaled the familiar scent of his skin. He was back. And she was going to make sure nothing would ever part them again.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> OK, for all those who thought I dropped it here's another one. I'm gonna continue with this fic, only the updates may not be as often as before, but I have some ideas I wanna write down, so don't worry, there will be more. 
> 
> And let me thank you for all the support, the comments and cudos, I'm really, really happy you like it so and sorry for keeping you waiting!


	41. Stake

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Part IV - Revenge

Tywin Lannister walked into his chambers, tired from the whole day debating. He poured himself a cup of red wine and went on the balcony to take a deep breath of night air that could help him clear his head a bit. He drank some more wine, looking up at the starry sky.

“One move and you’re dead…”

Tywin stiffened, the cup still pressed against his lips.

“An arrow is aiming at your head and I never miss.”

Tywin slowly put the cup on the stony railing of the balcony, his face not giving away any hint of fear.

“Who are you?” he asked calmly, without turning over.

“Cup bearer,” the voice answered, the tone like steel. Tywin smirked slightly.

“Do you even know who _I am?_ My guards will never let you walk out of here.”

“Maybe,” the voice said, “but they’re dead.”

Tywin stayed silent for a while, a glimpse of fear flashing in his eyes.

“What do you want?” he asked.

“Just a moment,” the voice said. “Wait a moment…It’ll take effect any minute.”

Tywin shook his head and then he started feeling a bit dizzy. He looked at the cup. Oh… Of course…

The last thing he saw before fainting was a pair of piercing eyes in a dark face and they were the eyes of a killer.

* * *

“Tywin… Tywin Lannister!”

Tywin blinked several times. Sea waves were slowly washing over him, the ocean breeze running through his hair. He looked up wearily. There was a woman standing on the beach. She was wearing black leather, fitting closely to her slim and slender figure. Her face was masked with a black scarf and only her eyes were visible. He had seen the look before…

“Wake up,” she said in a light tone. “You wouldn’t want to miss this.”

Tywin blinked again.

“Who…” he said with his voice rasping. “Who are you?”

The woman untied the scarf and revealed her face. She was quite young, he thought. Those deadly dark eyes, prominent cheek bones, the face of a black she-wolf… He would say he hadn’t seen her but yet she seemed oddly familiar…

“I have already said that,” she said. Her voice was calm but there was a merciless tone to it.

“I am your cup bearer. Don’t you remember me? Your men flogged me at Harrenhal. You helped me that night, for which I thank you. Albeit it won’t help you, I’m afraid. But trust me I could kill you in several worse ways.”

Tywin was still staring at her with confusion.

“But who – “

“Sorry,” she said, a cold, unemotional smile appearing on her face. “I’m not used to introducing myself with my real name. But you will hear it, don’t be afraid.”

The woman crouched then, tilting her head on side, joining her gloved hands over her knees.

“I’m Arya Stark,” she said, still smiling. “It’s nice to finally meet you, Tywin.”

Tywin widened his eyes.

“Stark…” he uttered, bewildered. “That’s not possible…”

Arya nodded.

“I’m not surprised you don’t recognize me,” she said. “I was a small kid when you’ve seen me for the last time. Before I escaped.”

Tywin frowned, even in the situation so desperate he had to ask.

“How did you escape?” he said. He was wondering many times how she had managed to disappear unseen, right under his own eyes.

“My friend helped me,” she replied.

“What friend?”

“You don’t know him either…” she said and then a man appeared behind her, walking out of the olive grove on the beach. He looked even more dangerous than she. His grey eyes were cold and expression ruthless. He was quite tall and well-built, wearing similar dark dress like her only with the addition of a cloak. He didn’t speak, though; he only stood by her side, watching him.

“You are here today thanks to him,” Arya said. “I swore I would kill you, Tywin. To punish you for your cruelty, for your ignorance of human lives and for the pain and suffering you caused to so many men, women and children.”

She paused for a while.

“And for orchestrating the slaughtering of my mother, my brother and his wife.”

At the moment Arya’s eyes were speaking of the months of careful planning of his kidnapping and it was obvious nobody would come to his help. So this was the end. End by the hands of someone he didn’t even know still existed.

“I see,” Arya said, observing him, “you don’t even try to bargain. Why don’t you start offering me gold? Or have you finally understood gold is worthless to me?”

Tywin gulped, his sore throat dry. He frantically searched his mind to find anything she could want but soon he realized there really wasn’t a single such thing. Except his life.

“You will die soon,” Arya said and got up slowly. “I’ll come back to have the last look at your dead body. The only thing I will do for you, Tywin, is that I will make sure your people find you to give your proper burial.”

She turned and together with the man she walked away. Tywin didn’t even try to stop her. He was strapped to a stake, half of his body already in water. And with each hour the ocean was higher. It was useless to fight the knots, Arya made sure he wouldn’t escape. The only thing he could do was waiting for his death. Water slowly reached his abdomen, his chest and shoulders, his chin, and then it washed over his mouth, already touching his nose. Tywin’s widened eyes were sticking out of water for a couple more minutes, his body twitching in the hopeless fight for air. And then he was still. He moved no more.

When Arya came back the ocean had already been withdrawing, revealing the lifeless body of the most powerful of Lannisters. Arya looked at him, her eyes travelling over the old man’s corpse, that was covered in seaweed. She looked away then, meeting Jaqen’s look. The unsaid words ran between them and Arya took a deep breath. They got on their horses and Arya clutched Nuvian’s reins.

“Let’s go for his grandson,” she said, prodding the horse and cantering away.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> OK, I'm decided to finish this fic, don't worry. It won't follow the canon events but basically, majority of Arya's list is dead so it wouldn't be any fun anyway:-) And Tywin was just an aperitive, of course...  
> Note: The fourth part of my fic - Revenge - may not be written chronologically. 
> 
> Thanks for all your comments and kudos and hope you'll like it till the end :-) Read and comment below so I'm gonna know what you think! Thanks!


	42. Dirt

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Part IV - Revenge

The underground prison was dark and damp with rusty chains on the walls and wet stones covered in mold. The only light was from torches on the tunnel walls, the cells remaining in darkness. There was a cell at the end of the tunnel. Three guards were heading there, talking loudly and drinking wine, laughing, clearly drunk. One of them took the keys out of his pocket, unlocking the iron bars.

There was a woman hanging limply in the chains, naked and dirty, with bruises and scratches all over her body.

“Look who’s waiting…” one of the men said, his tone raspy.

“Take the bitch down,” another one said and they unsecured the chains, letting her fall on the ground.

“She’s out,” a man said, hitting her in the face. She breathed in abruptly, widening her eyes.

“Hello, beauty… Heard you spent yesterday on the rack…”

They spread her legs and arms and she yelped with pain. Her ankles and wrists were bruised and swollen and there were several burns on her skin. Her hair was cut so she was almost bald and there was an iron ring on her neck like a dog’s collar.

“You like screaming, right?”

They punched her face again as her head jumped up on the stone floor, both her eyes black.

“That son of a bitch killed both my daughters; let his dogs eat them alive.”

“He ordered my brother to be executed for accidentally dropping an apple that son of a bitch stepped on.”

“While you were watching, bitch! You didn’t do anything!”

They punched her and kicked her. She was gasping for air, her pale body motionless on the floor. One of the men rolled her on her stomach and took off his trousers, kneeling on the ground.

“So let’s see how the queen tastes,” he murmured as he started raping her hard while the other two men were spilling wine on her and laughing at her. They all changed on her several times during the night and when they were done they started beating her fiercely. When they had finished they chained her legs and arms above her head and hanged her from the ceiling, laughing at her painful screams.

“You wait here, _queen._ We’re gonna visit you soon.”

After they left she kept groaning until she fell silent and the dungeons were quiet again. Nothing moved in the cell for a few more minutes. The only sound was that of water dropping in distance.

And then, suddenly, a small shadow stirred in the corner opposite to the hanging woman. After a while, bit by bit, a figure of a tall and slender person emerged from the corner, walking slowly and inaudibly to the imprisoned woman.

“Quite enjoyable,” she said, tilting so she could see into her face.

“For them, I mean,” she added. “I don’t believe you enjoyed it that much, Cersei.”

She walked around her, studying her beaten body.

“You don’t look so different from a mere prisoner now, _queen_. In a matter of fact, you look more like a filthy whore to me.”

Cersei started waking up, opening her eyes weakly and trying to focus on her.

“Wondering who I am? I doubt you would know. When you last saw me, I was a little kid. A kid you stole everything from. You and your son. That psychotic beast you raised and let rampage and do every sick thing his mental mind produced. You never stepped in, never interfered… Never tried to stop him. That monster who killed my father and abused my sister Sansa.”

Cersei shivered, her eyes widening a little. Arya smiled wide.

“Yes, it’s me. And it was also me who kidnapped you that evening. Oh, I won’t forget the look in your eyes. You were genuinely frightened. How come someone would dare to kidnap the queen! And how come they don’t want any money?”

Arya sat down on a stone in front of Cersei. The queen was staring at her in utter shock while Arya was calmly looking back at her, both arms leaning on her legs as she was sitting relaxed.

“Actually, Cersei, _I_ paid _them_ to lock you up. You have no idea where you are, right? Well, I would be surprised if you find out before they rape you to death. But that doesn’t matter anymore. Your father is dead and I have your wretched son. He will by dying _very, very long_ , I swear to you.”

Cersei’s face furrowed with wrath.

“Don’t you dare to harm my son…” she gasped. Arya laughed, shaking her head.

“Not only _will_ I dare, Cersei, I will very much enjoy it. Your beloved Joffrey will be screaming and begging me to kill him!”

“You little bitch!” Cersei breathed out. Arya got up.

“When I look around, Cersei, I think it’s obvious who the bitch here is. And don’t worry. I paid them enough to keep you entertained. I think you understand they all have some personal issues with you. I took care of it when I was searching for people you and your son killed someone they loved. That was quite easy, though.”

Arya approached so their faces were almost touching. The queen, once the most powerful woman in the kingdom, now defenseless and enslaved like an animal and the young woman, once a vulnerable little child alone in the cruel world, now a merciless assassin.

“You should be happy. This is justice,” Arya spoke quietly. “For you and your son and your father. Thank me for sparing your two other kids. Somehow you managed not to make monsters out of them too.”

Cersei was shivering with pain and horror when Arya gave her one last smile and turned away.

“Stop!” Cersei screamed. “Stop! Help me! Get me out! I… I will pay you anything!”

Arya shook her head.

“Your father was much wiser,” she said without looking at her. “He didn’t even try to bargain. He understood. Not like you.”

“I’m the queen!” Cersei shouted desperately.

“You are no queen anymore,” Arya whispered. “You are nothing but a piece of flesh. Good bye, Cersei.”

 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> OK, this was a rough one but I think GOT doesn't spare anyone:-) Hope you didn't mind but the revenge needed some description. And I tried to hold the explicity low. Hope you didn't mind. Let me know, read and review and wait for the next chap, another kill is coming!


	43. *****AUTHOR'S NOTE*****

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> AUTHOR'S NOTE

**SPOILERS FOR GOT SEASON 5**

Hello my dear readers,   
the new season of GoT has come and I found out Arya and Jaqen would meet again. 

**END OF SPOILERS**

Although I'm super happy for that, I will not incorporate anything from season 5 to this fic as I don't want it to crash with my "vision." I have started this fic after watching season 3 anyway and I hope you won't mind. It's fan _fiction_ , after all :-)

I'm intending to take this fic to another level, working with Arya's revenge and dig a bit more to some Jaqen's secrets. I am really glad you still like it and you can be sure there will be many new updates to this.

Soon I'll post another chap with a revenge turn and it still won't be Joffrey... Stay tuned and thanks for all the kudos and especially your comments!  
(btw, great observation, [colorprism](http://archiveofourown.org/users/colorprism/pseuds/colorprism)!)

 

xxx


	44. Prey

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Part IV - Revenge

That night was dark and cold, the wind howling like a terrible beast preparing to strike. Shadows were creeping over the old and creaking trees and dry grass was silently rustling, making it sound like dozens of sinister steps.

A body was lying near a spiny shrub. It was a very old man in torn clothes and with long and matted hair. With a painful groan he started waking up, his hand rising weakly, touching the bleeding wound on his head. He blinked several times, trying to focus in the pitch black around him. With great difficulties he got up, holding a tree trunk.

“Hey!” he shouted with fear seeping into his voice. “Is anybody there?!”

It was obvious he was frightened of both being alone and shouting in the forest, drawing the attention of wild animals.

“Does anybody hear me?!” he called out again, desperately. He froze at the very moment. Even in the darkness, even with the old eyes of his, he caught a shadow moving fast among the trees.

“Who’s there?!”

His voice was reflecting scare. He winced as he saw the shadow moving again, closer to him.

“I demand to know who you are!” he screamed, his voice trembling, as he was trying to encourage himself - with no success. 

_“Shalaeth…”_

The old man’s eyes were bulging in horror as he heard the menacing whisper.

_“Ul ikalla rhakirem…”_

The voice was in the rustling grass, in the creaking trees, in the howling wind. And it was cold and cruel, with each word louder and more hateful.

 _“Urri warkanu maagtish!”_ it spat out with rage. The old man yelped, his heart beating frantically. He cried out in terror when a black figure stood in front of him. There was a black hole under the hood and from that darkness it was watching him.

 _“Ul elat hurghasi shi-ih…”_ it spoke quietly and then it moved its arm and pointed into the forest.

“Run,” the voice ordered. The man turned and started scrambling through the vegetation. Like a terrified animal he was running in the forest, falling every minute, his clothes and skin tattered of the branches and thorns. His face was bathing in blood and ice cold sweat. And he heard it, he heard the voice of death itself and it was following him, breathing on his back, its claws almost touching his neck.

 _“Mahi-ir…”_  

The voice was like a sharp knife cutting him.

_“Mahi-ir…”_

The voice and the shadow chased him like a prey the whole night, turning it into the worst nightmare. His chest was burning with pain, his body torn and covered in blood. But the dread and fear were driving him further, he couldn’t stop, he couldn’t let the shadow swallow him.

 _“Limtahar, Walder Frey…”_ the voice spoke to his ear.

“You are hunted, Walder Frey… Run… Run or I will feed on your flesh. Run or I will cut your eyes and tongue out. Run or I will carve my name into your skin. Run, Walder Frey. I smell your blood. I feel your fear. I will plunge my claws into your chest and rip your heart out…”

In the early morning when mist was falling over the old trees and first dew drops glimmered on the dy grass, Walder Frey collapsed on the ground with his eyes wide open, staring at the treetops. His breath was wheezing in his chest like a rattlesnake and his mouth was full of blood. Veins were bulging on his temples, his hands were cold and grey, and pieces of skin were hanging from his bared feet that were torn to the bone.

His chaser was watching him from the shadow of a nearby tree.

“Stark,” the voice of his nightmare said. A feeble spark flashed in the exhausted, hollow eyes of the old wretch. With the last bit of his strength he managed to turn his head a little and his eyes travelled over the lean, slender silhouette of Arya Stark. His mouth opened in a silent gasp. It stayed like that and the old heart beat no more. Arya turned away, leaving him to wild animals. She whistled and after a few seconds Nuvian appeared by her side. She got up into the saddle and prompted him to run. She travelled through the forest until she reached a glade circled with tall, white-barked trees. Sypherion was grazing there and when he saw them he greeted them with silent neighing. He approached and the two horses touched each other’s nostrils. Arya got down and looked at Jaqen. He was leaning against one of the white trees, arms crossed on his chest. His eyes were fixed upon her and his face was darkened despite the coming morning.

“Did you hunt?” he asked and she nodded. He didn’t say anything more and Arya walked towards him.

“How is our pet doing?” she asked.

“Very well,” Jaqen answered and Arya looked up. Above their heads a naked, skinny man with pale skin was hanging from a tree branch, with his arms cuffed above his head. He had a gag in his mouth and was barely conscious. Arya’s face hardened with disgust and she looked away.

“His time is close,” she said silently, her look sliding over the glade, slowly coming to life with the fresh morning sunlight.

“We should leave,” Jaqen said. “Those deaths will raise suspicions. It will not be so difficult to connect them to a mutual enemy.”

“All of them had thousands of enemies,” Arya protested.

“The plan was to leave as soon as you kill him,” Jaqen reminded her, his voice firm. Arya took a breath, staying silent for a while.

“King’s Landing will be chaos,” Jaqen continued with his eyes slightly narrowed. “Soldiers are looking for the King and Queen and Jamie Lannister is furious. Do you not know she was his lover and he is his son?”

Arya smirked.

“Gross, indeed,” she noted darkly.

“His revenge is now motivated as strongly as yours,” Jaqen said. Arya looked him in the eyes and Jaqen added: “It does not matter if your family were good people. He will be looking for you.”

“Then I will kill him too.”

“He made a promise,” Jaqen said. “To your mother, long time ago. He swore he would bring you back to her.”

Arya blinked with surprise but she frowned reluctantly.

“Well,” she said coldly, “he obviously did not succeed…”

If Jamie was in her way, she would get rid of him. Old pacts were history and her mother was dead. She felt Jaqen’s eyes upon her and she could almost hear his unspoken words but she didn’t look at him and she didn’t speak. She didn’t want to hear it and she didn’t want to think about it. All she wanted to think of was the pile of dirt hanging from the tree. Tomorrow it would be the day she would finish him and she would savour every single second of his death…

For she was the justice and vengeance. She was the death…

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Translation:  
> Shalaeth... Shadow.  
> Ul ikalla rhakirem... I will hunt you down.  
> Urri warkanu maagtish... You are my prey.   
> Ul elat hurghasi shi-ih… I've been looking for you.  
> Mahi-ir… Murderer.   
> Limtahar... Die.  
> Hope you liked this one. I'm planning a bit of a darker turn for this part of the fic so stay tuned. I think you may have already guessed it... :-)  
> Thanks for reading, commenting and kudos and enjoy and drop a comment!


	45. Vessel

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Part IV - Revenge

_Jaqen was sitting on the edge of the bed, looking out of the window at the full moon. The profile of his face was enlightened by the moonlight and the look of his eyes was distant. Arya woke up and rolled over, looking at him. He was so absorbed in his thoughts he did not pay her attention. Arya touched his gloved hand._

_"Jaqen.”_

_He turned at her and his expression was normal as usual._

_"Did I wake you?"_

_Arya smirked._

_"Yes, I can feel when you are completely silent and motionless. Is something wrong?"_

_Jaqen shook his head. Arya frowned._

_"Why don't you tell me the truth?" she asked. "Tell me what you were thinking about."_

_Jaqen's expression changed at the moment and she knew that was a no-way._

_"Nothing important," he said._

_"Let_ me _judge that," Arya replied but Jaqen had already looked away and got up._

_"Have some rest," he adviced her as their ship to Westeros was leaving in the early morning and left. Arya kept staring at the ceiling. There was so much Jaqen wasn't telling her. Sometimes it was so frustrating to be left in the mist of doubts. Maybe Jaqen still had not fully trusted her, she thought. What was it he wanted to hide from her when his mind wandered to the unknown places?_

_Arya felt deceived in a way. She bared herself to him completely and he knew everything about her. _But what did__ she _ _know about his past? F_ rom time to time he seemed like a stranger to her. She would reach to him and even after so much time spent together he would withdraw. _

_Arya sighed heavily and closed her eyes. Maybe she should embrace the possibility there were certain things Jaqen would keep secret forever._

* * *

 

The swamp was as wide as the eye could see; it was yellowish and smelling sourly. Swarms of flies and mosquitoes were hovering above the steamy surface of the water; with occasional bunches of grass sticking out of the green-brown liquid. There were numerous carrions scattered around, sinking into their wet graves, the sweet stench of rotting meat floating in the thick air.

Near the solid bank of the moor a strange vessel was sailing. It was a plain wooden boat, just fitting for a small person. It was shallow and open and had no paddles or sails. And as it was very slowly moving in the still and heavy air, the fly swarms kept gathering above. Its insides were the reason they were so drawn to it. They couldn’t resist… the soft flesh…

Something was moving inside the boat with muffled moaning coming from it. Pale hands there were clenching and trying desperately to free themselves. But the cuffs could not be broken. His body was covered with knife wounds and the blood scent was attracting the insects that would lay eggs into his flesh.

Arya was watching his struggle from the bank. His glassy eyes could not see her anymore but he was close enough to hear her spoke to him during his last days of agony.

“I will be your last companion, Joffrey Baratheon. My voice will be the last thing you would hear…”

The repulsive smell of his decomposing body was being carried away by the feeble wind. Sometimes when his vessel got closer to the bank, Arya could look down at his body moving with hundreds of little worms that had already eaten his eyes out, giving him a grotesque look of someone wearing a skin two size bigger.

 “You didn’t feel any remorse when you ordered my father to be decapitated. When you were torturing my sister. When your family had my mother and brother slaughtered. But I hope you _do_ feel some remorse now.”

Arya kept him company day and night, her eyes like glued to the pitiful sight. Jaqen would approach her sometimes, watching her silently with arms crossed on his chest and his look was dark and cold.

 “It won’t take long anymore,” Arya was whispering to Joffrey, who was convulsing and choking on his own vomits. It was only a matter of hours then. But she wished he would be dying forever so she could watch it. And then he moved no more.

Arya took a deep breath. She felt no relief. Joffrey was not the only one. There were others who were either supporting his reign or too cowardly to resist. Arya wanted to find them, give them the punishment they deserved. All those standing by, doing nothing, merely watching the injustice, were guilty.

“Where are you going?”

Arya was saddling Nuvian when Jaqen came out of the shadows in front of her.

“Back to King’s Landing,” she said.

“You wanted to go across the sea after you complete your list.”

“My list is not complete,” Arya said. 

“Are you planning to kill everyone who used to serve the Lannisters in the whole Westeros?”

Arya did not answer nor did she look at him. She got up on her horse, taking the reins.

"Will you try to stop me?"

There was a short moment of silence.

"No," Jaqen said. Arya turned the horse.  

"There are still too many that must die,” she said.

“By your hand?” Jaqen asked. 

“Yes,” Arya said, trotting away. 

"By my hand."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I think this way of dying doesn't do him the justice either but still better than mere poisoning :-D  
> Hope you like, let me know what you think, the comment button is just a click away :-)
> 
> (You weren't so far, colorprism)


	46. Unbounded

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Part IV - Revenge

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> NOTE: Chapter 33 has been rewritten a bit, you may read the new version if you want, seems more IC to me now :-)

_„What…“_

_Arya stopped on her way to her bed, looking at the object laying on it. A sword… But not some ordinary one but the best Arya had ever seen. She knew at the very first moment it was valyrian steel._

_With awe and respect she approached the weapon and touched it with the tips of her fingers, feeling the coldness of the blade. Judging by the hilt the sword had been used for many years but the blade shined like brand new. Arya took it into her hand, surprised how light the weapon was. She swung with it several times, fascinated. There were runes carved into the blade._ Death has many faces.

_In the evening of that day Jaqen was in the stable, adjusting Sypherion’s new saddle._

_"Vissya," Arya said and Jaqen looked up._

_"Vissya," he said and straightened up, his eyes lowering to her as she was carrying the sword in her hand._

_"I hope you like it," Jaqen said before she could even open her mouth. Arya shook her head._

_"I don't understand… You should keep it, I -"_

_"I had already had it," Jaqen said. "It used to be my sword. I kept it hidden here, in Lorath."_

_"But why did you stop using it?" Arya asked in disbelief. "It's valyrian!"_

_Jaqen smirked a bit._

_"I had my reasons," he said and Arya wished she knew them._

_"Why didn't you sell it? I can only imagine the price…“_

_"Selling valyrian steel?" Jaqen said and chuckled lightly. "No, my lovely girl. The sword has only been waiting for a new owner."_

_Jaqen's eyes travelled over his former weapon and he repeated the inscription quietly._

_"I carved it," he said and then his look shifted back to Arya._

_"I trust you can master it," he said. "Remember, it is only a sword, after all. Remember it."_

_Arya nodded, curious why he was giving such importance into his last words. Of course it was a sword._

_"Would you want to go and try it?" he asked then, interrupting her thoughts. Arya smiled widely._

_"What do you think?“_

* * *

 

Barth hadn't slept for eight days in a row. Every time he almost started dozing off, one of his servants would wake him up. He commanded them so and would punish them severely if they forgot. He wasn't the only one having sleepless nights, though. Every since _it_ came to the city…

It was like a phantom coming after dark and leaving nothing but blood, ruin and death. People started calling it the Shadow and thought it was more of a beast or a ghost. Nobody had ever seen it and those who had were all dead.

It was targetting those always loyal to the Lannisters and it had already been rumored it was responsible for the death of Tywin Lannister and the disappearance of Cersei and Joffrey. Those openly serving the Lannisters were frigtened to close their eyes at night while poor people suffering under Lannisters' reign were secretly cheering.

And Barth was the Hand Collector. If someone had a debt or had not paid the taxation, Barth would visit him and cut his hand off. He would have fled the city already but he felt safer at home, surrounded by five guards protecting his house. That night he was sitting by the window and drinking wine, his reddish eyes unfocused. His guards did not make him feel any safer. The only thing a bit helpful was the wine barrel beside him. 

At his advanced state of intoxication he did not hear the silent thud as one of his guards fell on the ground. The torch flame shivered and a vague shadow slid over the wall. A servant went to look and was immediately silenced by a blow to the head.

Barth blinked, looking around.

"Hey," he mumbled. "Who's there? Terra, where are you ungratefull - "

Barth’s eyes opened wide. He looked down at the blade plunged in his chest. A pair of dark eyes was watching him. The assasin's face was covered with a black cloth.

"Who…" he rasped. His killer took the cloth off.

"I am no one," she said and thrust her sword deeper. Barth groaned and his head dropped limply, the wine cup falling off his hand. Arya pulled the sword out, wiping the blood to Barth's robes, and she left his house as silently and unseen as she had entered it.

She put the cloth back on her face and hid her sword to the shield. Quietly as a stray cat she hurried to one of the guarded gates out of the city. Six soldiers were watching over. Arya went to a nearby well, covered with a wooden board and pulled a small piglet out of it. She approached the gate and when she was close enough she untied the piglet's legs and muzzle, setting it free. As it started squealing and running around, she slipped under the guards notice, running to the night. After some safe distance she whistled and waited for Nuvian, jumping to the saddle. She took the black cloth off her face and breathed in deeply, a smile forming on her lips.

On her way to her hiding place she remembered Barth again. The dread she saw in his eyes. She enjoyed the power she had over him. Being on her own helped her to see how Jaqen's training made her invictible. When she was younger she would never have imagined how ridiculously easy it was to enter a high-guarded house, finish the guards and kill the target while leaving no clues… If she needed some information, there was nothing easier than dressing as someone else. She could be a young man if she wanted to and there was no way anyone would connect all those people Arya had been to a single one. Albeit Jaqen had never trained her to be faceless, she had been - in a way – anyway…

But why did he not want to train her? Did he want to be stronger than her? Did he want to keep the secret of that power all to himself? Maybe he was afraid of her. Maybe he did not want to give her that advantage…

_Why didn’t he follow me?_

Arya laid down to the grass and looked up at the night sky, trying to calm down the sudden anger. Deep in her heart she heard a distant voice but she silenced it. She would go back to the city the next day. As she thought of it she laid a hand on the hilt of her sword.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Another part of Arya's sole killing spree. Hope you like and drop a comment. Thank you!


	47. Myth

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Part IV - Revenge

_There was someone standing in her room._

_“Robb...”_

_Arya reached and touched his arm. At the moment the figure turned. Arya widened her eyes, her mouth slowly opening. She saw the chopped off head of Grey Wind instead of Robb's. There was her mother Catelyn standing by his side. Her throat was cut open and blood was flowing down her robes. She held her father's head in her hands._

_“No!”_

_She opened her eyes. She was lying in desert and fire was burning in front of her. She breathed out shakily and wiped the sweat from her forehead. When such dreams would come, Arya had already been quite good at relaxing afterwards, but no matter what she tried that night, her heart was still beating fast and her stomach still hurt._

_Jaqen was lying on his back on the opposite side of the fire, his eyes closed._

_"Is a girl fine?" he asked calmly._

_"I just can't sleep," Arya said. Jaqen gave her a contemplative look. Arya was looking into the flames. She did not want to speak about her dreams._

_"Has a girl heard the tale of Nebtheh, the Mother Godess?” Jaqen asked suddenly. Arya merely shook her head._

_“Her brother and spouse was the god of creation Usire,” Jaqen continued._

_“The tale says they created wind from Usire’s breath, the sun, the moon and the stars from his bones, waters from his blood and then Nebtheh gave birth to the world. They had one more brother, Sutech, who was jealous of Usire and desired Nebtheh. But she loathed him. One day Sutech called his siblings to a celebration to reconcile. He was a kind host, he apologized to his brother and sister and as a proof of his good will he gave Usire a gift – a precious necklace. Usire put the necklace on and died. Sutech cut his body into twelve pieces then and scattered them all over the world._

_Nebtheh was furious with ire and sorrow. She changed into Kamrushepa, the goddess of wrath and vengeance. Eventually she found Sutech. He was hiding under a waterfall in the form of a trout. She fought him and defeated him at last. She killed all his children and all his wives and made Sutech watch. She tied him with his children’s entrails and she took him to the Great snake. The poison of the snake would fall in drops on Sutech’s face, causing him insufferable pain till the end of the world._

_Kamrushepa then turned back to Nebtheh, the Mother Goddess. She searched the world, collecting the pieces of her lover’s body. She put them together, buried his body and returned to the House of Gods to rule over the world.”_

_It took Arya a few seconds to get back to the presence after Jaqen’s voice died out._

_“That was fantastic!” she said and narrowed her eyes._

_“I would slaughter that treacherous Sutech too. Bastard,” she added, hitting the sand with her fist._

_Jaqen laughed briefly._

_“A man is not surprised…” he muttered to himself. Arya looked at him._

_“How do you know this tale?” she asked. “I’ve never heard it or read it and I’ve read dozens of books.”_

_“This is a myth of the old and forgotten people of Tallesin. The landless nation.”_

_“Landless nation?”_

_“They had no land and never settled. They kept sailing the seas. Therefore they were called Tallesin – the people of the ocean.”_

_“Where are they now?”_

_“Perished,” Jaqen said. “Mostly by the hands of sea robbers.”_

_Arya frowned lightly._

_“How do you know the story then?” she asked._

_Jaqen’s eyes flashed and he closed them, falling silent. Arya lied down too, putting arms under her head._

_"It's a beautiful night," she mumbled._

_"It is..." Jaqen said and Arya smiled slightly._

* * *

 Arya woke up abruptly. She was at her hiding place on a remote beach, surrounded with fig and olive trees. She did not feel any threat but a sudden conviction of something missing. It took her only a few seconds to remember why she had been alone. 

“There was no other way,” Arya whispered to herself, suppressing the sadness. “I had to go and it was his decision to leave me.”

That is not true, her inner voice complained. _You_ left, Arya…

Arya shook her head. She did not mind being on her own. She wanted it that way. Did she not?

With the rising sun Arya got up, looking over the ocean and the image of it stirred memories in her mind. She sighed, dissmissing the thoughts. She had a mission to fulfill… She must not fail…

King's Landing was highly watched that night. The numbers of guards in every corner and on every street increased severely. Each day it was harder and much more dangerous to enter and leave the city unseen but Arya would take the risk, she did not pay attention to any consequences. There was nothing that could stop her. Nothing that could endanger her.

She visited three homes that night and left three dead men behind and when she sank her sword in their hearts a smile was on her lips.

"He was killed just a minute ago!" a startled guard shouted when he found the body, running outside the house. Arya slowly walked out of the shadow in the corner of the room, her eyes piercing through the darkness. She jumped out of the window to the back yard and swiftly climbed up the stone wall, lying on her stomach. She watched the guards running to all directions.

„Haven’t you seen anything?“ a guard was shouting to the face of a frightened woman with two children.

„You must have seen him!“

Arya waited, her hand almost touching her sword but the guard eventually let her go and Arya slipped down the wall and started running to the shantytown. She knew they would go looking for her to the city gates, assuming she would want to escape the city.

"They think I'm a man," she muttered to herself, mildly amused, while sitting on ruins of an old house, watching the wide ocean bellow.

_A man…_

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Another mostly flashback one. The myth Jaqen is telling is inspired by various "real" myths. I wonder if you recognize some of them or the lands they are from... Hope you liked and please let me know in the comments, they make me super happy! Thanks!


	48. Return

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Part IV - Revenge

_Arya was up the whole night, leaning against the railing and staring at the contours of the approaching coastline. Ever since the highest points of Westeros mainland appeared on the horizon, it was drawing Arya's sight. When she breathed in the cold air coming from the hills, she was like spellbound by it. She knew the scent so well... Yet she had almost forgotten Westeros even existed, let alone she would have something to do with it. But her roots laid in that land…_

_She could not explain how she felt. Her mind was circling around Winterfell, her child room, the quarells she had with Sansa, the games she played with her brothers, her long talks with her father..._

_“Feeling like going home?”_

_Jaqen stood by her side, looking in the same direction._

_“Not quite…” Arya said, distracted. She smelled the air again. She could not describe it but the scent was sending cold shivers down her spine._

_“When I was young I believed I would be looking for this moment…” she said quietly. Jaqen looked at her. Arya saw concern in his eyes but she was too absent-minded to care._

_“You do not have to do it,” Jaqen said. Arya shook her head. No, she did not have to…_

_“I just want to get it over with,”she said. Give them justice and leave, she thought and watched the hills drawing nearer._

_The image of Westeros she saw in front of her had been like a long forgotten memory that came back to life. But it was casting dark and cold shadows into her soul…_

* * *

 

Jaqen named his former sword Skyrnir – Winter Breath. The blade had been stained by blood of hundreds and Arya did not let the weapon idle. One freezing morning she was practicing with it on the beach, each her move precise and lethal. She felt like the sword was an extension of her own arm.

Sun was setting when she finished and fixed her gaze in the direction of King’s Landing. She had work that night. Heedless of the risk she sneaked to the highly protected city again.

“No… No, please!”

Arya caught his sword and tore it out of his hand.

“Please, don’t kill me… I’ll pay… I’ll pay you anything!”

Arya chuckled.

“Pay me? You didn’t have enough money to buy at least one guard.”

“I’ll get you money… I’ll get you anything you want!”

He was crawling on his back and in the dark Arya could see the white sclera of his widened eyes.

“I killed the king,” Arya whispered and lowered above him. She smiled.

“And you have only one thing I want…”

“No… please…”

Arya plunged the sword into his neck and he started chocking on his own blood. She straightened up above him, wiping the blood to his clothes as she always did.

She fled then, elusive like the phantom she was called. A group of soldiers passing by forced her to climb up the building immediately, hiding behind the moulding. But as they went away Arya ran over the roofs, making no sound at all.

Soon enough Nuvian was carrying her to her safe place, fast as the wind. The morning was upon them and it was cold and sharp. Arya went to the sea nevertheless. She dived to the bottom, the freezing water alerting her senses. She managed to catch a fish and emerged, taking a deep breath. Later when she was sitting by the fire and eating the fish she roasted, a wave of weariness washed over her. She lied down to the sand, wrapping into a blanket. She closed her eyes, her sword lying next to her so she could grab in case of need.

She fell asleep then and although sleeping lightly, she had a dream.

She saw her hands, unusually pale and thin. There was something moving under her skin. It was itching and Arya wanted to get rid of it. She took her knife and started cutting into her skin. Worms were crawling out of the wounds. Arya threw the knife away and wanted to pull them all out. She was tearing her skin away, exposing her flesh and bones.

“I am here…”

She turned after the silent, cold whisper. Her hands started shaking. She remembered that voice all too well.

“You wanted me to leave and I left. Now you have called me back…”

Arya was alone in the darkness and she was running, searching for light, chased by the voice she loathed.

“Why are you running? You are not afraid of anything, are you?”

Suddenly Arya stumbled and fell on the ground. Pain ran through her body and she gasped breathlessly. There was something under her hand. She looked at it and recognized it instantly; it was a silver ring with a serpent.

“Surprised?”

Arya was breathing heavily, feeling she was in a pool of cold blood, the ferric odour filling her lungs. Something grabbed her shoulder. A bony, clawed hand. Arya heard silent hissing. She looked up and saw a darkened face with reddish eyes. The mouth cracked open, revealing sharp teeth and red tongue, covered in blood.

“Welcome,” J’naii growled and snapped at her.

Arya opened her eyes, finding herself on the silent beach near the fire that was dying away. It was a cold night but she was shivering in hot sweat. Her hands were trembling. She felt sick.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hope you liked this one, my dear readers. Arya keeps descending... Let me know in the comments what you think and thanks!


	49. Crash

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Part IV - Revenge

A tall, bald man in white robes was talking to the captain of his guards, gesturing his arms with anger. He was standing in front of the gate to his house and he kept looking around the street suspiciously.

Arya was laying on the roof of the opposite building. It had already been nearly impossible for a normal citizen to enter or leave King's Landing but Arya had her ways. She wore brown clothes to better blend with the roof colour and she was watching the man below. His name was Uruk and he was another Lannister's pet. They were using him for the dirty affairs. He built the mighty house on the lives of those Lannisters deemed troublesome.

Two small girls and a young boy walked out of the gate then. Uruk started shouting, pointing at the house. When his children went back Uruk closed the gate behind them. At the moment Arya stiffened, looking at a man approaching Uruk's house. The handsome features and golden hair could not be mistaken.

Jaime Lannister talked to Uruk for some while. At one point he looked up in her direction and Arya flattened herself against the roof. When he looked away she relaxed, thinking. Jaime being there meant danger. She had been killing in King's Landing for quite some time and Jaime was no fool, he might have come with a plan.

But then, what plan could he have come with that would endanger her?

After a few more minutes Jaime left and Uruk went to his house. Arya slipped down the gable and headed to a less busy street where she mingled with the crowd.

Later that evening she was sitting on the beach. She was frowning, holding her sword. When the sun went down Arya stood up. She hid her hair under the tight leather hood and covered her face with a black cloth. She got up on Nuvian, prompting him to run.

Uruk's house had two floors and Arya was positive Uruk was on the first. Children were most probably sleeping on the upper floor. She walked around the house, careful not to get the attention of ten guards surrounding it. There were three entrances and quite a few windows. They were dark but that did not mean Uruk was sleeping. If he was not a complete fool he would be counting there were not many high-ranking officers left.

After a few minutes of evaluation Arya decided to get inside using a smaller window at the back of the house. There were three guards. Arya approached one of them, treading noiselessly. When she was behind him she wrapped an arm around his neck and thrust a poisoned spike into his arm. The man quietly slid on the ground. When the other two turned, one of them had already had the spike in his neck and the third fell on the ground after Arya threw another spike into his face.

She unlocked the window using her knife and crawled inside. She stayed still for a moment, listening to the complete silence. Nothing could be more suspicious than that. Arya remembered Jaqen saying: „If you were suddenly blind, what would you do?“

She heard noise from the upper floor, judging that were the children. She caught some contours of the furniture around, realizing it was something like a dining room. Guards were walking outside. She had only a few minutes before they found the three dead.

She reached another room with a single lightened torch on the wall. There was a bed nearby with someone laying on it. Arya smiled. She took a few more steps, clenching the hilt of Skyrnir. She could already see Uruk's face. She drew the sword out. All of the sudden Uruk opened his eyes.

Arya attacked him immediately and their swords clashed.

"You are no ghost!" Uruk shouted with a furious grin. Arya pushed his sword off and in the following second the house was full of guards. Arya finished two of them right after they stepped in the room and two more afterwards. She threw the table away, charging at Uruk again. His sword could not withstand the blows of valyrian steel and it broke in the middle.

"Father!"

Two girls slipped under her arm, trying to shield him. But Arya raised her sword.

_"Go on…"_

The menacing whisper… Arya blinked.

"No!"

The boy jumped between them, embracing his siblings and at the same moment one of the guards attacked her. Arya turned around and fought him. Another guard joined him against her while the third took Uruk's children away. Arya pushed one of the guards away and wanted to finish the other but he blocked her sword, making her sway. Uruk managed to grab her by her arm. He pulled down the cloth covering her face.

"A woman?!" Uruk exlaimed. "You are just a filthy little bitch?!"

He looked closer at her and Arya's heart shivered.

"Wait a moment…“ Uruk said, his voice trembling with agitation.

"I know who you are! A Stark!"

Arya gasped. The shock kicked her. She pulled herself out of his arms and Uruk started shouting: "Come here everybody! I have the bitch!"

Arya turned and left by the same window she came. She climbed the wall and started running the streets. She did not stop until she was at the safe place in the abandoned part of the Flea Bottom.

She would not kill the kids. She would stop. If the boy did not interfere she would stop. She could never hurt a child. She would never do such a thing. It did not matter whose kids they were. She was not like that.

How come Uruk recognized her? She was so much older than the last time she had been in King's Landing. How was it possible? Some features of her face were quite distinct. Like her eyes. Eyes would stay the same even if the person was much older…

Arya winced. Did she hear something? She touched her sword with a shaky hand. Nobody followed her. They were looking for her at the gates.

How could she be so sure, though?

What was going to happen? She had to leave King's Landing immediately. But the damage had been done anyway. Uruk certainly would not be silent about that… But Arya had been wanted before. People thought she had died, though. And after this night she would be blamed for killing Tywin, Joffrey and Cersei.

She breathed in abruptly. She heard heavy steps approaching fast. At least five men. Soldiers. She moved to the shadow under the fallen roof. Her face was cold with sweat. Her heart was beating so frantically she believed they would hear it. After what seemed like ages they left and Arya allowed herself to breathe again.

Jaime would go after her. He would want his revenge. And she would deserve it. The so called protector of the innocent and justice. Almost murdering three kids for no reason…

Arya groaned and leaned aside as she threw up in the dust.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Still no sight of Jaqen... Don't worry, he'll come back but I need Arya to be on her own in this part. Hope you liked. I wouldn't let her turn into a complete monster :-) Let me know what you think in the comments please and enjoy!


	50. Burial

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Part IV - Revenge

When the pit in the soil was deep enough, Arya put Skyrnir in it, along will the rest of her weapons. She covered it with earth, pressing it thoroughly. In the end she put stones and dirt on top. One day maybe it would make someone very surprised.

Nuvian nudged her arm and she stroke his black mane.

When they returned to Arya's safe place, she wanted to rest for a couple of hours before leaving to the harbour in a smaller town Seyor. The crescent moon was making its every night's journey over the dark blue sky and Arya was silently watching it, sitting on a dry tree trunk. Gentle night breeze was whispering in the fig and olive leaves and from time to time it carried the distant sound of the birds of night. She closed her eyes for a moment, hoping the soothing night sounds of the wind and ocean would reassure her. It did not work.

Arya did not sleep a single hour that night. Before sunrise she packed her things and set off. It took the whole day to get to the Seyor harbour. She picked that harbour on purpose for it was small and the boats were old and unreliable. Not many people would take the risk.

Arya was looking over her shoulder every minute, making sure nobody was following her. Uruk definitelly described her and although she did her best to look different, some things she could not change. She managed to make her hair look unlike, she changed the colour of her eyes and wore different clothes so she seemed heftier and boyish. But she could not do anything with the shape of her features.

The possibility somebody in King's Landing would recognize her was negligible. But it was not impossible. She should have known better. She should have counted every eventuality…

But she was convinced there was nothing to be afraid of.

So foolish. So stupid…

That day was cold and clouded, much to Arya's luck. Nuvian's shoes were burying into the mug and he was shaking his head to get rid of the rain drops.

"It must be difficult to have such a changeable rider," she muttered, patting his chest and Nuvian neighed silently almost as if he was answering, which cracked a weak smirk on Arya's lips. They got to the harbour lately in the evening. There were four soldiers checking all the travellers.

"What's your name?"

"Mycah," Arya said, making her voice sound lower. The soldiers observed her closely.

"And what does a lad like you want in Braavos?"

"Business," Arya said. "I'm a stonemason."

"Really? You don't look like a stonemason to me…“ the soldier said, looking her up and down.

"Search him.“

As they went through Arya's possessions, she was forcing herself to look calm and a bit annoyed.

"Such a fine horse for a stupid stonemason?"

Arya shook her head.

"I was saving a lot," she explained. "And I have nothing else."

"That's true," a soldier who was searching her things agreed. "It's a poor wretch."

"Nice silver buckle, though…“

Arya's heartbeat sped up. She forgot the silver buckle!

"Was my old man's," she shrugged. "Gave it to me when he died. I don’t get it, did I do anything?"

"We have orders to check everyone.“

"Why? Something happened?"

"Someone was murdering people in King's Landing."

The soldier looked at her and pouted.

"But you look too blunt to be such an assassin. Fine, go on."

Arya proceeded to the boat where another man was standing next to the boarding bridge, collecting money. She gave him the amount for her and her horse. Firstly she took Nuvian to the stable cabin and tied his reins to the handle. She walked up on the deck then, watching other people coming. She examined each person, looking for any suspicious traits but it seemed they were all ordinary people. After another hour the boat left the harbour, sailing slowly along the coast and taking turn to the open sea. Arya was watching the receding shore of Westeros. She should not have come back.

Sea sickness washed over her and she closed her eyes, trying to lessen the nausea. As the sea spray was wetting her face, Arya remembered a day when they sailed on a similar ship and a storm hit them. As the ship was being tossed around by the fierce waves, Arya refused to stay on the lower deck because of her terrible fear she would not make it up if the ship started filling with water. She was holding one of the masts on the upper deck and had her eyes closed, her heart beating in panic.

_"You would be drier if you were down in the cabin," Jaqen said loudly to make himself heard over the storm roar._

_"Never!" Arya cried out. "You won't make me go down, never!"_

_"Others had a different opinion," Jaqen objected and Arya shook her head, still having her eyes closed._

_"Good!" she shouted. "Once this ship goes down I'll be the only survivor and I'll be laughing at your corpses from the shore!"_

_She heard Jaqen laugh and felt a bit of anger instead of the sole fear._

_"Great, make fun of me, I don't care! You can go down with the rest of the fools, I'm fine up here!"_

_"A girl does not like a small sea storm…“ Jaqen said. Suddenly she felt his arm around her. He pulled her closer to him and lowered them on the floor._

_"You can not expect me to stand all the time," he said while Arya dared to open her eyes, looking at his amused face._

_"I will not advise you to stop being afraid, but believe me a man has seen many sea storms and this one is not dangerous."_

_Arya's stomach rolled over._

_"I may vomit," she whimpered inaudibly._

_"Certainly that is nothing a man would not see many times before," Jaqen smirked and Arya groaned._

_"Close your eyes," he said patiently, "and breathe deeply. It will go away."_

_Arya did that and felt her panic and nausea fading away bit by bit, minute after minute._

_"Very well," Jaqen said and he was holding her till the storm ended._

Arya opened her eyes and saw the sky at twilight. She dried her wet cheeks with the back of her hand.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> More flashback addition. Hope you liked and let me know in the comments. Thank you!


	51. Voyage

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Part IV - Revenge

_“Sell this lobster and you will have enough money for a new saddle.”_

_Arya looked up from the warm sand she was sitting in._

_“But I want to eat it,“ she said, looking at the giant lobster she managed to catch while diving._

_Jaqen was standing in front of her, his light linen shirt and trousers moving in the gentle sea breeze. He had his sleeves rolled up and was barefoot._

_“It’s not easy to cook it, though,“ he pondered and Arya gave him a look._

_“You do it then.“_

_Jaqen smirked with amusement, frowning as the sun was shining into his tanned face._

_“You caught it, you cook it.”_

_“I hate cooking. Please, do it.”_

_Jaqen chuckled and crossed his arms on his chest._

_“I would, believe me, but unfortunately there is a law in Lorath that prohibits a man to cook a fish he did not catch,“ he said. “Or a lobster.“_

_Arya could not stop a smile forming on her lips. She put her hands on her hips, raising an eyebrow._

_“And cooking is a woman thing anyway,“ Jaqen said and watched Arya’s widening eyes. He was clearly fighting hard against the laugh when Arya regained her composure._

_“Fine,“ she said impassively. “I’ll cook it. If you manage to catch me.“_

_There was a very short moment of silence. Arya saw in Jaqen’s eyes the exact moment he accepted the challenge and at the same time she had already taken off, speeding along the beach._

_It took Jaqen some time before Arya felt his arms around her waist. She flew into the air leg-first and started shouting: “Jaqen!“ until the splash of water silenced her. She emerged, taking a deep breath and her eyes fell on Jaqen standing on the beach and looking more than amused._

_In the evening of that day, Jaqen was sitting on the bench under an almond tree, eating his diner with an expression that was a mixture of self-restraint and pain. Arya approached him with a plate as well, sitting on the well edge opposite to him._

_“It’s not so bad, right?“ she asked, dissecting the lobster shell. Jaqen did not look at her but merely muttered something._

_“Considering I’m new to all these stupid cooking things,“ Arya continued, picking the white meat from the nipper._

_“Yes,“ Jaqen said, carefully placing the plate aside. “Very impressive.“_

_“Thanks,“ Arya grinned. “Have you had enough? Here, have some of mine!“_

_“No,“ Jaqen straightened up. “No, thank you. You enjoy it, it was your lobster.“_

_Arya was watching him and felt she could not hold it down anymore._

_“I think you should really take some of mine,“ she said, her mouth twitching. “To be honest, we don’t have the same diner…“_

_Jaqen narrowed his eyes._

_“What do you mean?” he asked quietly._

_“Well,“ Arya shook her head, “it seems you have a salad of black snails. They’re great but very difficult to cook, you know.”_

_Arya winked at him._

_“But your pretending was actually very cute.“_

_It seemed Jaqen would throw her right into the well she was sitting on before he returned to his usual impassiveness, only it took him more time than usual._

_“A girl surely likes playing with fire,“ he mumbled and Arya chuckled before giving him half of her lobster and kissing his cheek._

A feeble smile of the remembrance slowly died away on her lips as Arya came back to the present. It was the third day of the sail and she was looking at the people on the deck. There were two young sailors talking quietly, their faces full of scars and scratches. Judging by their accent they were from Braavos. Then there were two children playing with wooden toys and two old men and an old woman. Arya remembered Jaqen talking to an old man on their way to Myr, she heard him speak a language so insignificant he did not want her to learn it. She had never asked him how _he_ knew it…

Was he in Braavos? Would he wait where they agreed was their place of meeting in such cases? Maybe Jaqen decided to go on missions of his own. Had he not said once Arya finished her vengeance they would separate? She was so blinded she had not had any thoughts about it until then.

Suddenly Arya froze. She heard her name being spoken in the conversation of the old.

"I've seen the Stark girl once. She was like a wild puppy… I can't imagine she could kill so many people without being caught," the old man said.

"It doesn't have to be her," the other man objected. "Nobody has seen her clearly. And Lannisters have so many enemies…“

"She could do it," the woman said. "A wild puppy could become a ferocious dog. And such gruesome killings…“

Arya felt a painful stab in her stomach. She was a ferocious dog indeed. Bloodthirsty. Merciless…

Was it even a good idea to look for Jaqen? Why would he want to see her anyway? She left him… She wanted to be on her own and her wish came true. Was that why he had been training her all the time? And more importantly was that why  _she_  had been training in the first place?

One evening she was in the stable cabin with Nuvian, grooming him. She noticed the silver buckle with a wolf's head on her saddle. Jaqen gave it to her. She closed her eyes, leaning her forehead against Nuvian's hip and exhaling slowly. She was grateful Jaqen was not with her, she would not want him to witness her downfall.

Should she expect he would be angry with her?  _She_  would certainly be if he would leave her in the way she left him. Or maybe he was glad to be on his own again. It was not his revenge after all. She had been so determined to avenge herself and her family. She wanted to make things better and she wanted to show the murderers there was justice even for them. Or that was what she had intended to do in the beginning…

Arya was not able to eat or sleep. She was spending her time on the upper deck, avoiding the old ones who were still gossiping about the recent events in King's Landing. In the early afternoon of the fifth day the ship arrived to Braavos. Arya gladly left it, heading to the rocks towering above the sea. She changed her dress, wearing simple black vest and trousers and looked over the city. 

She could be waiting months and he would not show up. She had never thought about the possibility they would really separate. Suddenly Arya realized she had nowhere to go and had no aim.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I put in a rather light flashback, kind of was in the mood:-) OK, hope you liked this one and please drop a comment! Thanks!


	52. Temple

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Part IV - Revenge

Sygin's temple was empty at such an early morning hour. When Arya walked through the entrance, the sun in her back cast a long shadow over the white floor. Her hesitant steps echoed in the great space. Sygin's statue made of ivory stone was towering in front of her, her half-closed eyes looking down at her indulgently. She was the patron of the poor, worshiped for her kindness and forgiveness. According to the myth Sygin had a single child, a daughter Syn. A farmer fell in love with Syn but she refused him and he murdered her in a fit of anger. He came to Sygin after that, begging her to punish him. She sent him home, saying: "Punish yourself."

The farmer would come every day to beg her for forgiveness, many years, until Sygin told him: "Go help the others. You are forgiven."

Considering Arya's opinion she had no doubts the farmer had been a sick lunatic and she would cut his throat open before he would even touch her. But still, she liked the  imagination of myths, the only place where such forgiveness could exist. Her mind wandered to the day she was at the market in Lorath, looking for some herbs she needed and a weird man kept bothering her all the time. Arya did not know what he had found so interesting on her but she sure like hell hated it.

_“I said piss off,” she said to him when he was following her from a stall to a stall. The man was in his thirties, tall and skinny, with oddly bulging eyes._

_“Let me help you,” he said with his womanly voice. “What do you need? I have herbs in my garden too, I grow them myself.”_

_“That’s amazing,” Arya said with irony. “And I still don’t care. Leave me alone.”_

_“I like you,” the man continued and Arya seriously doubted his mental state._

_“You buy some interesting herbs…”_

_Arya shot him a glare._

_"What for?" he asked. He evidently knew some of them and knew what they were good for._

_"For getting rid of jerks like you," Arya said. He touched her arm. At the very same moment Arya pulled her knife out, pressing it against his neck._

_“Don’t touch me,” she whispered, her eyes narrowed. She let go of him then but the man approached her again and she heard him took a breath. But he did not say anything as he was dragged from the market to the backstreet by Jaqen. He held the man's shoulder and although his face was calm as usual, Arya saw in his eyes he was enraged. He pushed the man against the wall violently and the man let out a painful yelp._

_“Do not come close to her ever again,” he said quietly, his hand dangerously close to the man's throat._

_Finally it seemed the man had come to his senses for he was pale and his hands shaky. He nodded and when Jaqen released him he started running away. They both watched him run and Arya looked at Jaqen then. He was still angry and frowning. Rarely would Arya see him being upset in any way._

_“He has been watching you for some time…” he uttered._

_“I know,” Arya said. “I think he’s just an herbal weirdo. Not really dangerous.”_

_“You can never know that,” Jaqen said and his eyes lowered to her. “Don't you remember Leif?”_

_Arya’s chest tightened._

_“I would appreciate if you didn’t remind me of him again,” she said coldly. “I would kill everyone who would try to touch me.”_

_Jaqen watched her for a while and his expression softened slightly._

_“I am sorry,” he said. He lowered above her and kissed her gently. Arya held a hand on his chest, returning the kiss._

Back in the present Arya was listening to the silence of the temple and the distant noises coming from the city below. She knelt down at the altar and bowed her head. She did not pray to anyone particular, not even to Sygin. She was alone with her mind and thoughts, repeating them over and over again, moving her lips inaudibly.

She did not pay attention to time or the few people visiting the temple. When the sun went down and the air got moist and smelling of earth, she opened her eyes. Her neck and spine were aching and her legs were stiffened as they did not move for hours. She got up slowly, stretching and taking a deep breath. She looked up at the statue again. Funny, she thought, how a plain stone statue could make her feel better.

"Could you help me?"

Arya turned after the voice, noticing a small boy about twelve with a pair of wooden crutches, struggling to walk the stairs. Arya helped him up and looked at his missing left leg, wondering what could have happened to him. The boy saw her staring. She looked away.

"Sorry," she said. "I didn't mean to stare at you."

"That's fine," the boy said and limped to the altar.

"My former owner did that," he explained. "I broke him a precious vase."

Arya's eyebrows went up.

"Are you a slave?"

"No," the boy said and turned at her over his shoulder, a smirk on his lips.

"Who would want a one-legged slave?"

Arya assumed he was a beggar then. He brought flowers to the altar.

"I haven't seen you here before," the boy said, curious.

"I…" Arya cleared her throat. "I'm not really a praying person."

The boy grinned at her.

"They call me Vali," the boy said.

"Mya," Arya said. Vali walked to her and they sat down on the stairs leading to the temple, watching the roofs and the sea in front of them. Vali started talking about his life almost as if he always knew her, he spoke about being sold to another master after he had lost his leg but the master had released him soon after that. Vali had to start begging on the streets to survive. Arya was listening to him, astonished how calm he was about his situation. 

"Are you never angry?" she asked, puzzled. 

"Sometimes," Vali said. "But I'm rather hopeful."

"Mmm…“ Arya shook her head. Interesting theory, though. When they parted in the evening and Arya went to her current accommodation, she was thinking how odd it was someone could be so reconciled with his fate. But then again, it was a matter of character. Also being born a slave usually did not lead to high ambitions.

And yet, she thought, the little boy seemed calmer and more contented than her...

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hello, my dear readers, thanks for reading this chap :-) I gave Arya someone to talk to and a little upset-Jaqen flashback too... Hope you like and drop a comment! Thanks!


	53. Lonely Nights

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Part IV - Revenge

The lonely nights in Braavos were the worst. Arya did not sleep well at all, only a couple of hours a week and she was wandering around the city at nights. She would walk along the promenade beside the sea, listening to the silent swishing. She was recalling all the times she would roam around foreign places waiting for Jaqen but rarely had she been afraid he would not have come back. She knew he would. He always came back for her.

Not like this time...

Arya would wait for him long, even months, but he would be there eventually, emerging from nowhere all of the sudden and she would look at him with relief and gratitude.

_"Why is a girl reading at such late hours...?"_

_Arya was sitting outside the house, because she disliked being stuffed inside walls, she was leaning against a tree and there were books, maps and paintings scattered around her. She was bowing closer to the oil lamp, a book in her hands and then she would hear the voice she knew the best from all, the voice she had been waiting to hear for so long..._

_"Jaqen!"_

_He was standing above her just like he somehow materialized there, a hint of a soft smirk on his lips._

_"Maybe you should have been a scholar..." he noted and Arya jumped up, kicking accidently the book over the whole back yard._

_"You've been long gone," she said, sounding more reproaching than she intended to._

_"I apologize," Jaqen said in his calm manner, "but a man must work."_

_"I know," Arya said. She did not care as long as he came back again._

_"How was your journey?" she asked when she brought him water and some food. Jaqen sat down on the stone bench in front of her, letting out a tired sigh._

_"Fine..." he said and looked over all the literature Arya was buried in._

_"Have you learned something new?" he asked._

_"Of course I have, you don't think I was just hanging around, do you?"_

_Arya sat into the grass with her legs crossed and looked Jaqen in the eyes._

_"Test me from Braavos."_

_Jaqen raised an eyebrow._

_"As you wish..." he said, leaning against the bench and closing his eyes. He started asking her questions and Arya was answering. It was nearly morning when Jaqen advised her to have some rest._

Thinking about it now, Arya knew Jaqen had been tired and yet he would have still stayed up because of her.

She took a deep breath, smelling the morning air and she rather detached herself from the memory. She turned, looking up at the Sygin temple.  

Arya would come to the temple every evening to meet Vali. They spent the evenings with talking and soon enough Arya found herself looking forward to it. It was actually nice to talk to someone who knew nothing about her and yet did not care. As it was not a problem for Arya she started bringing Vali food and they would eat it on the temple stairs. Arya enjoyed listening to Vali's stories. For a boy of his youth he had quite a lot of them.

On a few occasions Arya took Vali out of the city to ride Nuvian while she was leading him around and she was laughing at the utterly shocked but happy expression Vali had. She thought it was great in a way that a simple horse ride could make someone so excited.

Arya knew the various reasons she liked Vali's presence but she did not care. It was not hurting anyone and she was doing nothing wrong. 

"How do I look?" Vali asked curiously, sitting straight in the saddle. Arya looked at him thoroughly. 

"You look menacing," she said and Vali laughed and shook his head. 

"I don't," he said, "but it's great anyway."

He stroke Nuvian's mane then, his eyes shining with fascination, just like the first time he saw the horse. Arya smiled and she swiftly got up to the saddle behind him, taking the reins. She prompted Nuvian and the stallion gladly started trotting towards the city, obviously grateful he could run fast again. Arya dropped Vali in the shantytown he was living in and returned to her house. She got a job at the local salter and she would rake the salt on the long salt beach till it was completely dry. Arya did not mind such work. She enjoyed being the whole day so close to the ocean. After her shift on the beach was over she would go home to fetch some food and went up on the hill to the Sygin's temple that was watching over the city below. 

"You haven't told me yet what you are doing here," Vali asked one evening while chewing a smoked fish.

"I work on the salt beach," she said.

"I mean what you are  _really_  doing here," Vali said and Arya looked down at her feet in the well-worn sandals.

"I... am waiting for a friend," she said eventually and threw away the fig peduncle.

"You are waiting long," Valid wondered and Arya nodded.

"Well," she said, smirking joylessly, "he maybe won't show up at all."

"What are you going to do then?" Vali asked and Arya shrugged.

"I'll leave, I guess," she said. "I can't stay at one place forever."

Vali raised an eyebrow.

"Why not?"

Arya looked at him.

"I'm like that," she said, shifting her eyes away. She hated thinking about it but had to consider it a real possibility. Nothing was indicating Jaqen would be trying to find her. And how long did she want to wait? With her chest tight with sorrow she knew it was time to stop waiting. It was time to go.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Another small flashback to the "old good times." Also some Vali addition. I'm doing my best to keep his part as unsentimental as possible for that is really not the reason I wrote him into the story. Hope you liked and drop a comment! Thanks!


	54. At Sunset

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Part IV - Revenge

Arya looked again at the pouch with coins she had prepared for Vali. She intended to hide it somewhere near the temple of Sygin so nobody would have stolen it from him. That was her farewell gift for him. She bought a place on the boat sailing to Pentos the next day and she had already been packed. Although she did not have a clear aim, she could not tell what she really wanted, she knew for sure she wished to travel. And maybe, on some of her journeys, she would find what she was looking for...

Arya frowned, looking up from the stairs she was sitting on. The sun had been low already but there was no sign of Vali at all. He knew she was leaving and he promised to come. Arya stood up, decided to go look for him. Vali told her the part of the shantytown he lived in and Arya headed there, hiding the pouch in her vest, reflexively touching the hilt of her dagger. She passed by numerous beggars asking if they had not seen him but she could not get any useful information.

"Do you mean the little cripple with a scar on his back?" a one-eyed man sitting in the dirt asked. Arya nodded.

"I saw him with someone," the man said. "A tall stranger in a hood."

Arya's heart bounced.

"Do you have any idea where they went?"

"Out of the city," the beggar said, showing her the direction. Arya threw him a coin and ran to her house for Nuvian. She did not dare to think who the person taking Vali had been.

Arya firstly went to the rock she had her weapons hidden in and took her sword. She had put it there the last time she had been in Braavos. She looked at the sharp blade and remembered the last time she had almost killed.

She was not like that anymore...

Arya put the sword back to its shield and got up on Nuvian, turning him to the dirt road leading out of the city. She felt her insides twisting. She kicked Nuvian's hips to force him to even greater speed. After a mile or so she stopped him and jumped off, looking at the road. She still saw the hoof prints of at least two horses.

She got back to the saddle and kept on running through the sand wasteland, approaching the rocks, that were rising up to the sky with their tops hidden in clouds. The coastline was on her right and she could see the blue strip of the sea far away in the distance, the sky bleeding with the sunset. Oblique sun beams were hitting her back, the stirred dust glimmering in the orange and red light. It took her a couple of hours to reach the rocks and she would jump off the horse every once awhile to check the hoof prints were still there.

Big stones fallen from the rocks started blocking her way and Arya was looping among them, the echo of Nuvian's shoes resonating around, with a cloud of raised dust and dirt following her. The last sun beam faded as the sun went down behind the rocks, leaving everything in shadows.

_"Veör, Arya Stark!"_

The voice roared in the rocks. Arya stopped Nuvian abruptly and the horse rose on his hind legs, neighing.

In front of her, partially clouded by the dirt in the air, a black horse was standing, carrying a tall man whose face was hidden behind a black cloth.

Arya shouted:  _"Tu skuldar wort!"_

_Reveal your face!_

The man prodded the horse and started approaching her slowly. Arya was looking into his eyes but could not see through the dirt.

_"Utan frels ifra Vali!"_  Arya yelled.  _What did you do with Vali?_

_"So oh himmalan,"_  the man answered.  _He is safe._

The voice was too distorted by the echo, she could not know for sure...

"What are you doing here at this forsaken place, Arya Stark?" the man asked, using the common language.

Arya narrowed her eyes.

"I came for a friend you took!"

"Come," the man said. "I'll show you where he is."

Arya drew her sword out, pointing it at him.

"You won't have it the easy way with me," she said in a grave tone and heard the man chuckle lightly.

"I do not doubt that," he noted and she pressed Nuvian's hips, approaching him. She was looking into his eyes but could not tell. When she was close enough to count the laces on the man's shoulder armour, she stopped.

"Where is Vali?" she asked, her tone firm. The man raised an arm and Arya looked that way, noticing a small boy sitting on a rock. He was far but she could see he did not have a leg. She looked back at the man.

"Show me your face," she demanded. The man went for the knot of his mask. The cloth fell down. Arya's eyes widened in bewilderment.

"Jaqen," she said silently. She let her sword fall by her hip.

"I..."

She could not even tell how it happened. Suddenly she was held. An arm was wrapped around her neck. It was pressing against her throat, choking her.

_"Sküldihi rikie faoer,"_  the man hissed into her ear. She shivered.

_"Aman utan forlat."_

His dagger was pointing at her throat. Its tip had already wounded her skin; she felt the blood flowing down.

_"Himlum halgao ewihhet os um."_

Arya's sight was failing. She could not breathe. Her heart was aching. Her eyes were focused on the dark sky above. She heard buzzing sounds in her head.

_"Ardanne som."_

A whiz cut through the air. Arya fell on the ground on her back, her lungs desperately taking in the air. She rolled over on her stomach and coughed. Jaqen's body was lying next to her. A knife was sticking out of his neck. As she watched his face, it started to change. Into a no one's face. The hollow face.

She heard steps behind. Grabbing the knife from the dead man, she jumped up, raising her arm.

"No!"

Her arm was stopped by someone far stronger. She cried out, fighting to free herself.

_"Inleo nama,"_  she heard him say.

_"Tasashe..."_

Arya gasped. Her eyes filled with tears. She turned, looking at the man holding her. She saw his eyes and she recognized them. She knew.

"Jaqen..." she breathed out inaudibly. He was still holding her firmly, his arm wrapped around her waist, the other clutching her wrist. The knife dropped from her hand.

_"Fraenn illu..."_  she whispered. He touched her cheek with his gloved fingers, wiping the tears.

_"Naur' ör raeinn gerer,"_  he said quietly. His eyes hardened then.

"We must leave," he commanded. "Now."

"But -"

The cold, strident sound. Jaqen stiffened and closed his eyes shut. Arya looked down. She saw a hand holding a hilt of a dagger. Jaqen winced when the man pulled the dagger out. He looked up at her.

"Run," Jaqen ordered her, his voice painful but stern.

"Run, Arya!"

* * *

Translation of the sentences I did not translate in the fic to avoid disrupting the flow:

_"veör"_ \- stop

_"sküldihi rikie faoer"_ \- the wolf is caught

" _aman utan forlat" -_ now it will die

_"himlum halgao ewihhet os um"_ \- you should have listened to your heart

_"ardanne som"_ \- welcome the death

_"inleo nama"_ \- calm down

_"fraenn illu"_ \- my love

_"naur' ör raeinn um gerer"_ \- my heart beats for you

 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> While writing this chap I remembered - and not the first time - the great movie Léon by Luc Besson, because there are so many parallels with that and this story, I love it! Perhaps should have given Jaqen a plant :-D Anyway, hope you like it, the big reunion is there! Hope you enjoy and let me know in the comments, please. Thanks!


	55. Run!

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Part IV - Revenge

The piercing pain almost threw her down the horse. She held her breath, clutching the reins in her left hand and reaching her right. She grabbed Vali’s shirt and pulled him up to the saddle in front of her.

“Hold tight,” she said through gritted teeth. She turned the horse and withdrew her sword with a cry, deflecting two knives thrown at her.

“Head down!” she shouted at Vali, wiping the tears of pain. Two men on horses were approaching them quickly. Arya tore the knife from her left thigh out and threw it at one of the men. He moved away and the knife flew over his right shoulder.

“Run!” Vali screamed. But Arya stood her ground. She pulled her dagger out and threw it at them, throwing her knife right afterwards.

“Yes,” she hissed when she managed to hit both their horses. They collapsed on the ground, dust flying in the air around them. Arya looked over it. Hundred feet or so ahead, the third man was fighting Jaqen.

She gasped when Jaqen blocked the other man’s sword blast, pushing him aside. She kicked Nuvian’s hips and passed the two men already getting up from the ground. She had two more knives left and she threw one at the man fighting Jaqen. It stabbed his arm and he backed off while Jaqen immediately buried him under his sword blows.

Arya slipped down Nuvian, limping, trying to ignore the pain in her leg. She struck the man from behind. As their swords clashed she almost fell on the ground.

“I said run!” Jaqen shouted after her. There was anger in his voice. But Arya did not listen. She narrowed her eyes and used all her strength to push the man off. The two men had already joined the fight too.

Arya earned many wounds. She was fighting only one of them and she saw he was much stronger. She was breathing heavily. Sweat was running down her face, mixing with blood. She could not win...

The man threw her on the ground. Arya yelped in pain. She rolled over just in time to avoid having her arm cut off. She leaned on her elbow, looking up.

“Bastard!” she growled. Getting up she charged at him. He caught her arm. Arya looked him in the masked face.

“A wolf fights…” she whispered and sank her teeth deep into the man’s wrist. He winced and let go of her. She grasped the situation and cut him deeply over the stomach.

She turned, meeting the eyes of Jaqen. Blood was trickling from the wound on his forehead.

With another cry of effort Arya attacked one of the men fighting him. She knew she would not last long. All she was doing was merely pushing them off.

But she would not leave him.

Not this time…

A sudden scream could be heard. Arya widened her eyes. Jaqen was standing above the fallen opponent. His eyes were narrowed, his hand clutching tightly the hilt of his sword. He pulled it out of the man’s chest, immediately attacking the third man. Arya joined him, gathering last bits of her strength.

Jaqen cut his leg and hip. The man snapped at Arya at the moment, knocking the sword out of her hand. Arya only blinked when the shiny blade went for her throat.

“Move!”

Jaqen pushed her aside, blocking the sword with his own. Arya picked her sword up from the dust. With all her rage she cut the man’s leg, chopping it off. He howled and fell on the ground while Jaqen plunged his heart.

“Go,” he commanded, grabbing her arm. Arya removed the sweaty hair from her eyes.

“Where’s your horse?” she asked, her voice raspy.

“Over here!”

They turned after the voice and saw Vali sitting on Nuvian a few feet away, holding the reins of Sypherion in his left hand.

“Vali!”

Arya ran to him and jumped on Nuvian.

They took off, following the rocks heading to the coastline. Arya kept kicking Nuvian and the horse was flying over the wasteland, his legs barely touching the ground. She heard the sound of Sypherion’s shoes on her left.

“Don’t look back!” she heard Jaqen’s voice shouting at her. She forced to look ahead.

“They’re fighting!” Vali said as he looked over Arya.

“Run, Arya!”

Tears spurted out of Arya’s eyes. She slid her hand into her vest, taking the last knife. She pulled Nuvian’s reins then. The horse turned. Arya aimed in a split second, throwing the knife at the horse running side by side with Jaqen. She hit the chest, the animal falling, the man it was carrying being smashed underneath of it. Arya turned back, prodding Nuvian.

They kept running along the rocks for hours. Night had already been upon them. But every time Arya wanted to stop, she remembered how quickly the men were able to recover.

Several times she glanced over to see Jaqen running by her side. He was only a blurred figure in the darkness of the starless night, with the white Sypherion's hair glimmering weakly. They could hear the distant sound of thunder behind.

_Because of me…_

Arya shook her head. Her vision was getting blurry.

_All my fault…_

Her left leg was freezing as the trouser leg was soaked in blood.

_If only I had not gone…_

“Arya!”

Arya blinked. Vali was looking up at her, his scared expression visible even in the dark. She looked down, noticing she had almost let go of the reins. She clutched it tightly, shaking her head again.

_I must hold on…_

With the first feeble daylight sun beams, they reached the coastline and went along it until they ran into a pine grove. The strong smell of resin filled Arya’s lungs. The reins were once again slipping out of her hand.

“Take it…” she said to Vali, falling to the sweet smelling pine needles.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A bit more action for Arya, hope you liked, let me know in the comments. Thanks!!!


	56. Rain

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Part IV - Revenge

The sound of the heavy rain drops hitting the ground soothed Arya as she slept, the water cooling her wounds. She saw images of Jaqen bowing above her, she saw his eyes looking at her with concern and worries, his warm hands touching her body gently. She was on the edge of consciousness and oblivion. Somewhere in the distance a horse was neighing.

_"She will be fine..."_

_"But he is dying..."_

_"Stay here and be quiet..."_

Hazed voices talking. Arya stirred in her sleep, forcing herself to open her eyes. She blinked several times to focus the blurred image in front of her. Judging by the dim light it was a cloudy afternoon. There was a fallen pine trunk. Vali was sitting there, leaning against it. Rain had soaked the ground and everything around was glistening with water.

"You're up!" Vali exclaimed, an expression of relief evident in his wet face. Arya leaned on her left arm, slowly lifting up. A wave of pain washed over her, all her wounds from the previous night coming back to life. She let out a painful sigh.  

"Where's Jaqen?" she asked, her voice sounding strange and rough.

"He's gone to check if it's safe around," Vali said.

"Is he alright?" she demanded quickly.

"I think so."

Arya breathed out deeply.

"Are  _you_  hurt?"

"No…“ Vali uttered and turned on his right.

"But he is…“

Arya looked in that direction. Next to the pine trunk a white horse was lying, breathing heavily.

"Sypherion…“ Arya whispered. Nuvian was standing above the fallen horse, shaking his head with nervosity. Arya managed to get up and approach the horse. She slipped into the pine needles next to Sypherion and touched the wet hair on his hip.

"He's been wounded badly," Vali said silently and Arya's eyes fell on the wound on the horse's chest. Blood was flowing from it, staining the ground. Arya kept stroking Sypherion's neck, whispering to him in old languages he understood. It was still raining when the horse closed his eyes and his chest moved no more. Arya's tears blended with rain drops when she watched Nuvian nudging Sypherion's head. She closed her eyes and leaned back against the tree trunk. She was listening to the rain drops falling softly on the ground, murmuring in the branches. She had not noticed until then her left leg was bandaged and the wound obviously cleaned, as well as the numerous cuts all over her body.

"He took care of you," Vali said. Arya did not respond.

"He seemed very worried," Vali continued. "But he said we would be safe here for some time. The rain erased our footprints."

"Good," Arya forced herself to speak.

"He also asked me to tell you - when you wake up - it was not your fault."

A bitter snort escaped Arya's lips.

"If he says so…“ she muttered.

"He meant it," Vali said, his tone getting sincere. "I can tell."

Arya opened her eyes and turned, looking at the boy. She saw the honesty in his eyes and somehow she felt a bit of relief.

"I'm glad you're fine," she said. "And I appologize you've been dragged into this."

"Don't worry about it," Vali said and gave her a small smile, removing the wet hair from his eyes. Wind carried salt smell over the grove and Arya inhaled it. The sea was close. She found a big piece of wood and with Vali's help they started digging a pit for Sypherion under a big pine tree. Slowly the rain was ceasing, the afternoon changing into the evening. Soft shadows were crawling on the ground and night birds started singing. They buried the horse, covering the grave with stones and Arya carved Sypherion's name on the biggest stone on top.

"It was a beautiful horse," Vali said. "Your friend was sad when he saw the horse would die."

Arya got up slowly, her eyes lowered to the grave.

"He would never fail him," she said. Till his last moments and even wounded mortally, Sypherion would not fail him…

"That's true."

Arya turned around, widening her eyes. He was standing just a few feet behind her. Wearing dark brown leather that was ragged in several places, the wet reddish hair covering partialy his eyes. Arya kept staring at him for a short while and she could feel the burst building up inside her chest. He walked forward, moving wearily, pressing his left hand against his hip. Arya tilted her head backwards, her eyes roving over his features. The deep blue eyes, the white hair strand, the prominent cheekbones and dark tanned skin. She thought she would never see it again…

He reached and placed his palm on her cheek. With the touch of his fingers Arya could not hold the tears anymore and she felt her whole body tremble with cry. Jaqen lowered his head and kissed her gently on the lips, the kiss having salty flavour. He pulled away a bit then and gave her a hint of a smile.

"Are…“ Arya swallowed the tears, "are you alright?"

He stroke her cheek with his hand, weariness clouding his eyes. There were blood and dirt stains over his face and hands and Arya looked at his fingers, noticing the serpent ring she gave him on his forefinger.

"Don't cry," Jaqen said calmly, as more tears glimmered in Arya’s eyes.

"You did nothing wrong. What happened was not your fault."

Arya looked up at him, her lips shaky.

"You did what I expected you would," he said.

"I didn't want to endanger you," Arya said quietly. Not again!

"You did not," Jaqen said. He half-closed his eyes, grunting.

"They weren't after you."

He took a quick breath and closed his eyes.

„I will explain…“ the voice died in his throat as he gripped the side of his hip. Arya felt him sway. She looked down at his hand, widening her eyes at the blood seeping through his fingers.

"Jaqen…“

She tried to support him but he was too heavy. He collapsed on the ground and Arya fell on her knees beside him.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> OK, another one, the previous was hell to write, this one was a bit easier for me. I was sad to kill Sypherion, though. Hope you liked and let me know in the comments. Thanks!


	57. Crisis

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Part IV - Revenge

Fire flames were dancing in the darkness, the orange light flickering over the pine trunks. Wood splinters were cracking softly and sparks were flying in the air. Vali limped out of the grove, using a wood stick to support himself. He put down an armful of dry wood.

"Stoke it up on the fire," Arya said. She was crouching by the flames, holding a dagger in the highest heat. Her eyes were narrowed, flames reflecting in them. When the tip was white-hot she got up and knelt to Jaqen, who was leaning against the tree trunk, close to the fire. Arya undid the leather straps of his vest and the linen shirt underneath. His body was tense and his skin moist, covered in sweat. The wound was deep and blood kept flowing from it, trickling down his stomach.

"I'm going to -"

"Do it," he interrupted her nervous voice. He was watching her with half-lidded eyes, his left hand lying over his stomach, the other clutched in a fist. Arya took a deep breath, steading her trembling hand and burned the cut. Jaqen tensed, the knuckles on his hand going white, his teeth gritted.

When she finished it, Jaqen relaxed, exhaling slowly, his eyes remaining closed. Arya stitched the wound then and took the pouch of healing herbs she always carried with her, putting them on the cut and bandaging it with a clean cloth.

But blood was still seeping through it. Fever took over Jaqen, his skin burning and Arya asked Vali to bring more wood, putting it on the fire. Arya was wiping the sweat from his face, trying to reduce his temperature, her guts twisting painfully. She was covered in his blood and it was making her sick.

"I'm sorry," she said and in spite of the situation it made Jaqen open his eyes half-way and look at her.

"What for?" he asked.

"For... causing this..."

"Are you used to blame yourself for everything?"

Arya shut her mouth, not knowing what to say.

"If I didn't stay in Westeros -"

"That has nothing to do with this," Jaqen cut her. "You wanted to save the boy, did you not? The Ruthraya were after me, not you."

Arya fell in silence. Deep down in her mind she knew he was telling the truth. There was nothing better she could do...

"If I do not live through the night, go back to Braavos and take the first ship to Myr," Jaqen said. His eyes were hazed with pain and exhaustion but his voice was clear.

"They will not go after you once I am dead. And you know how to survive. You will be fine in Myr to start off and you can travel wherever you wish."

Arya was looking at him, her eyes starting to smart.

"Do you understand?" he asked and there was urge in his tone. Arya kept looking him in the eyes with denial.

"That will  _not_  happen," she said eventually, controlling her voice to sound convincing. She shook her head.

"Don't talk about it like that," she said. "Like you wouldn't even care."

Jaqen watched her, flames flickering in the depths of his blue eyes and Arya could catch a hint of sorrow in them.

"I wouldn't care about dying," he said. "But I do not want to leave you alone."

Arya bowed swiftly and kissed him to hide the tears glimmering in her eyes again, stroking his temple as he slipped into unconsciousness. His chest was moving regularly, his breath almost inaudible. She could see the numerous scars on his chest, old and new. Coldness started spreading inside her, her throat closing slowly. Her mind was directed at his will. There was nothing that could make her accept the possibility he would die. 

She watched her father…

She saw her brother…

Her mother having her throat slit…

Her brothers burned…

She closed her eyes shut, her hands clenched into fists.

_ Not you, Jaqen… _

Arya was digging her fingers to the soil, trembling.

_ All gods and demons of the worlds, all powers and forces that move the fate, the god of the death itself, do not let him die. Do not take him away from me… I will do anything to save him… _

Jaqen had always been the guardian, the enigmatic phantom being a step ahead, the invincible man Arya relied on. If he sustained an injury it was minor, like a scratch. Why had she thought he could not have been wounded?

Arya let out a shaky sigh. The night proceeded in silence. The flame light was wavering over Jaqen's still face, playing the game of shadows and light. Arya's eyes were glued to it. The longer she was watching him, the more different his face seemed to her. Changing… Strange… Unfamiliar… She shook her head. She was imagining things… 

All of the sudden Jaqen opened his eyes. Arya startled. His eyes moved quickly, focusing on her. Arya slowly drew a breath. These were not Jaqen's eyes.

As he kept watching her, Arya almost backed off. She felt shivers running down her spine and goose bumps on her arms.

"Nyraia…“

Arya blinked, her mouth opening slightly in confusion. She did not reply and Jaqen closed his eyes, taking a deep breath and drifting back to slumber. Arya leaned against the tree trunk next to him keep him guard, her thoughts whirling in her mind and she felt throbbing pain in her temples. Tiredness made her limbs heavy but she was afraid to fall asleep. She closed her eyes, her senses still alert though, listening to every suspicious sound. Next to all other questions popping up in her head, there was one that kept repeating all over again. 

Who is Nyraia?  

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Poor Jaqen :-) Anyway, you will have to wait till the next chap to see what happens to him. Until then, let me know what you think in the comments. Thanks!


	58. Dream

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Part IV - Revenge

_The never-ceasing darkness and the sound of chains. The flashing images of the haunted mind. No days and nights. No air, no sounds. Only blackness and fear. And building anger._

_"Show me his face."_

_They were laughing and hitting the bars with sticks._

_"Where are you, you filthy rat."_

_And then they were laughing no more. Blood and screaming filled the damp dungeons._

_"Catch the bastard, Tyr!"_

_But Tyr could not. He was lying dead, his throat slit, his eyes wide open._

* * *

Arya's eyes cracked open. The first thing she realized was that the fire had still been burning. It could not have been more than a few minutes she had been dozing off. It took her a short moment to wake up and she jumped up briskly, checking on Jaqen.

He was leaning against the tree trunk, his head slumped and he was breathing quietly. There were dark circles under his eyes and his skin was still warmer than it should be but the fever was gone. Arya carefully lifted the bandages and breathed out in relief when she could not find any signs of festering. She gently removed the white hair strand falling over his eyes, lowering and kissing him.

"Nanichi..." she whispered. Vali sat down next to her then, looking over Jaqen's still form.

"Is he better?" he asked and Arya nodded. Vali smiled.

"Good."

"Thank you," Arya said to him. He had been taking care of the fire the whole night. Vali's eyes shifted from the flames to her.

"That's fine, you don't need to thank me."

Arya allowed herself a weak smile. She looked up at the tree crowns. The pine needles were glistening slightly with the morning dew and sun light was shrouding everything in a golden veil of light.

"I think Nuvian is hungry," Vali said and Arya turned after his voice, needing some time to comprehend what he had just said.

"There is a sack tied to his saddle," she said. "That's his food, you can give it to him."

Vali immediately started limping to the horse. Nuvian was still standing above Sypherion's grave and it was aching to see him wait there almost like he hoped Sypherion would come back to life. When Vali gave him the food he sniffed it with no interest.

"Come on, boy..." Vali was speaking to him soothingly. "You must eat something..."

He was stroking the horse gently until Nuvian put some food into his mouth. Vali smiled then, patting the animal's chest.

"Good boy..."

Arya had to smirk. She remembered how wild Nuvian had been the first time she had tried to tame him. She guessed some people - like Vali - kind of had the thing for the animals. When the boy returned to the fire, an expression of satisfaction shining on his face, Arya turned after the salty smell of the sea.

"Are  _you_  hungry?" she asked. Vali shook his head but Arya could safely tell if someone was lying.

"Watch over him," she said. "If anything suspicious happens you must call for me and hide, understand?"

Vali nodded and Arya got up, running through the pine grove to the sea. With every step she felt a stab of pain in her left leg but she checked on it and it was healing fine. When she reached the sea she undressed quickly and jumped right into the cold water. Albeit the salt was burning in her wounds, she felt like life was coming back to her veins. She took a deep breath and dived deeply, all the way to the bottom, looking for fish. The hunt was successful. It did not take her long and she caught a red fish called Anga, one of the best tasting fish she knew. She disembowelled it on the beach and wearing only her linen shirt that was sticking to her wet skin she walked back to the grove.

She could hear voices coming out from it and firstly she froze with caution, her hand reflexively going to the knife strapped to her right thigh but then she realized it was Vali speaking.

"...always wanted to have a horse. Or a donkey, even if they don't smell so nice and can be quite stupid..."

She hurried to the fire. Jaqen was still sitting by the tree, his eyes closed as Vali was talking to him.

"There was this donkey in the slums I live and he absolutely hated when one of the beggars would sing. He was always biting him. I liked the donkey a lot."

"He probably had better taste in music," Jaqen said with amusement.

Vali laughed.

"Yes, he could also sing better."

Jaqen chuckled and Arya raised her eyebrows lightly.

"What a cheerful company," she said, shaking her head. Jaqen opened his eyes and looked at her. There was a moment of silence and Arya once again could read in his blue eyes. An unstoppable smile started spreading on her lips. She rushed forward then, kneeling on the ground and kissing him. Jaqen let out a groan as she touched the bandaged wound but there was a soft smirk on his face. 

"Sorry," Arya said apologetically and Jaqen leaned his head against the tree, not breaking their eye contact. While Vali tactfully went to roast the fish, Arya touched Jaqen's hand. 

"I was afraid..." she said quietly and Jaqen held her hand. 

"I know," he said. Warm summer wind  was blowing in the pine grove, carrying around the smell of the roasted fish and resin. Arya ran her fingers through Jaqen's hair, stroking gently his temples. Jaqen frowned slightly.

"A wolf is gentle..." he murmured.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Yes, Jaqen is fine. For now :-) There is also the first and last "trip" to Jaqen's mind and memories. Will not do it again as the story is just Arya's POV. More explanation in following chaps. Hope you like and let me know in the comments again. Thanks!


	59. Talk On The Beach

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Part IV - Revenge

"They kept watching you the whole time. The killings in the King's Landing drew their attention. They had found you but as they saw I was not with you they kept waiting. They believed I would show up eventually, they needed you to lead them to me. Once a woman with two children passing by, they were with you on the ship, the three olds, following you to Braavos. I could have not made my presence known to you as they would have attacked us immediately. But you had been waiting too long in Braavos and when they saw you would sail to Pentos after I had not met you, they did not want to wait any longer. They kidnapped the boy you befriended and lured you to the wasteland, hoping I would follow. And I did."

Arya was sitting in the warm beach sand, the low sun light above the sea making her frown. Jaqen was sitting on a big stone next to her, his hand resting on the bandaged wound.

"We defeated them for some time but I had already told you they were the highest priests of the order of the Faceless men. They are also one of the oldest. And not only are they able to change their faces but also find a way to avoid the death."

"Do you mean they are immortal?"

"In a certain way, yes." Jaqen said. Arya frowned. 

"Isn't that against the many faced god? To fool the death?"

"They watch over the order and make sure we obey the three rules," Jaqen said. "And they keep the secret of immortality to themselves. If anybody knows how to kill them, it's one of them."

"Maybe we could try to discuss with them," Arya said and Jaqen snorted bitterly.

"They do not need to discuss," he said. "Their task is clear."

Arya fell silent, too many thoughts and questions mixing in her head and she had to close her eyes for a moment and take a deep breath.

"You did not try to stop me after Joffrey died." Arya said in a flat tone.

"Why would I?" Jaqen asked, his eyes fixed upon her.

"You had already been decided. What else could I do but let you leave?"

Arya bowed her head. She was not reproaching. But if he tried to stop her, would it change the course of things?

"The only thing I could do was to wait till you realized yourself."

Arya knew it was true. He chose the only thinkable option. He stepped out of her way.

"I can't recognize the person I was in the King's Landing," she uttered. Even now when she remembered she felt her stomach hurt. It was like a deep abyss and she had been tiptoeing on its edge.

"I feared the whole time you would succumb to your vengeance," Jaqen said. "From the very beginning."

Arya only sighed heavily. She, on the other hand, failed to see anything.

"But I also believed you are strong enough not to."

Arya shook her head in silence, recalling again the moment she had almost attacked the children.

"A moment would be enough and I would become a cold blooded murderer, not an assassin."

Once again she thanked gods Jaqen had not been there that night.

"No, you would not," Jaqen said and Arya lifted her eyes to him.

"I saw you would not do it. You would stop eventually."

Arya's mouth opened a bit, her eyes roving over his face.

"You were there!" she said and Jaqen's lips formed into a little smirk.

"Of course," he said. "I said I would not leave you alone."

"Who you were?" she wanted to know. The boy? Uruk? The guards?

She pondered. The guard attacking her immediately after the boy shielded his siblings. The guard she struggled to defeat and she did not, in the end.

"If the boy did not interfere," Jaqen said like reading her thoughts, "I would. I would not let you do that, Arya. But I saw your eyes at the moment and I knew you would stop."

Arya was just looking at him, speechless, going through all the recent memories in her mind.

"You were on the ship too, weren't you?"

Jaqen did not answer but the look of his blue eyes spoke clearly. How come she did not recognize him somehow? He could literary walk in front of her, he could even speak at her and she would be completely oblivious.

"I was very careful, Arya," he said, his tone soft as she was watching him, unsure what to say or think. She did not like the feeling he had been watching her every move the whole time, that he was the unseen witness of her confronting her demons. But he kept his promise he had given years ago. He did not leave her. Even though it was Arya who had left him behind.

And she wanted to believe in what he was saying. She trusted what he saw in her eyes that night had been true.

"I was not enjoying that," Jaqen said and his voice pulled her back to the present.

"But I knew they had correctly assumed I had not left you really," he said. "I was watching you suffer and I could not do anything." Arya drew a circle to the sand, her eyes low.

"I thought I would never see you again,” she said.

"You know I would not leave you," Jaqen said. "Unless it would be your wish."

Arya sighed again. That was easily said but back then when she had felt so lonely and abandoned she had seen it in a different way. She looked over the sea, breathing deeply. What really mattered, though, was that Jaqen was fine and with her again. Whatever might come they were two to deal with it, they were strong again. She glanced at him, noticing the tiredness was back in his eyes.

"Let's go," she said, jumping up and taking his arm. She helped him up and Jaqen winced, walking slowly back to the grove. They could hear from the distance Vali was singing by the fire as he was carving something to his new stick, using Jaqen's knife.

"I remember I told him to be quiet," Jaqen muttered but Arya captured the amused tone in his voice.

"He's just happy," she said.

She lowered Jaqen to the fire and he leaned against the pine trunk, letting out an exhausted sigh. As he closed his eyes Arya could notice the dark circles still under his eyes. She checked on the wound. It was healing slowly.

"Don't worry," Jaqen said and Arya slipped her fingers into his warm hand.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A lot of talking, I know, but hey, they haven't seen each other for ages! I guess they really wanted to talk for some time :) Hope you like, thanks for the kudos so much and please, drop a comment. Thanks!


	60. Reflection

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Part V - Exile

Jaqen was sitting on a fallen tree near the beach, looking over the sea. His eyes were hazed and his body stiff. It was late evening and white seagulls were circling above the water, shrieking. The coast was calm and the sand beaches descending to the ocean were wearing the sunset purple.

It was such a peaceful time and yet in the way Jaqen was watching the faraway distance was something dark and unsettling.

Arya was standing in the shadows of the pine grove, her eyes fixed on him. He was like that for the last couple of days. Distant, absorbed in his mind and thoughts and he would brush her off when she tried to speak to him.

“Is something happening?”

Arya merely moved her head a little after Vali’s voice, still looking at Jaqen.

“No…” she uttered eventually. Vali stood by her side, noticing Jaqen’s darkened figure. He too had concern written in his expression. He too could sense something was not right.

“Go talk to him,” Vali said and Arya had finally fully acknowledged his presence, lowering her absent look to him. They were leaving the next day in the morning, taking Vali with them to the inland Norvos. Arya did not like the thought he would go back to Braavos alone.

She moved slowly forward, walking closer to Jaqen. She could not explain why he had been acting so strange. It was almost like if something had happened that he would not have told her.

“Jaqen?”

He did not react firstly. Only when she repeated his name he turned, looking up at her.

“Yes?”

Arya opened her mouth but could not find any words to say.

“Why don’t you go to have some rest?” he asked. Despite her worries Arya frowned.

“That sounds funny coming from you. You haven’t slept for the last three days.”

The dark circles were still under his eyes and his usually tanned skin seemed strangely pallid.

“I am not the same,” Jaqen said.

“No,” Arya said. “You are not.”

Jaqen kept looking at her for a couple of seconds and then merely returned his gaze to the sea. Arya sighed. Repeating the same words again seemed useless and tiring. There was something Jaqen did not want to tell her and this something was casting dark shadows over Arya’s mind. And fear started building inside her again.

What was he thinking about? What happened? Did he recall something? Why could she not see into his head? She returned to the pine grove that had been their shelter for the time of Jaqen’s recovery and her eyes fell on Vali taking care of their horses. Arya returned to Braavos and bought a beautiful young bay horse. In a memory of Sypherion she named him Glashtyn, which meant _sea breeze_ , only in a different language.

“He likes you…” Arya stated when she watched Vali stroking Glashtyn’s mane with a fascinated expression, the young horse shaking his head with pleasure.

“Yes,” Vali said without looking at her. “I just don’t want to make Nuvian jealous.”

Arya’s black stallion was standing nearby. From the first time since Sypherion had died there was some light in the horse’s eyes. Glashtyn raised his curiosity and Arya was glad for that.

Smirking, she thought it was very nice to have Vali with them, taking such avid care of their horses. It would be sad to leave him in Norvos but she knew it would not have been good to take him with them, in spite of how she liked him.

She remembered herself when she had been much younger, almost Vali’s age, also fascinated by all the things she had been exploring, all the things new to her, the things Jaqen had brought to her life.

All that was so far away now…

Arya’s mind returned to a particularly hot late evening on a summer day, back in Myr. She was sewing a hole in her vest by an oil lamp when a shadow spread over her head.   
_“A girl is learning to be a housewife?”_

_Arya gave him a warm smile, throwing the vest away._

_“Jaqen! It’s great you’re back!”_

_Jaqen’s unreadable eyes softened and he pulled something out of his pocket, putting it into her palm._

_“You wanted something from the_ foreign lands _as you called it. This is a dragon amulet.”_

_Arya looked at the depiction._

_“He’s sleeping…” she muttered and then she gave him a look._

_“It’s Verillian!”_

_Jaqen smirked._

_“A man thought you would find out.”_

_Happy, Arya brought him water and some food as usual and he thanked, sitting down next to her._

_After some time of begging from her side he capitulated and started telling her one of the old stories Arya longed to hear. These stories were not in any book she had and she knew Jaqen had somehow collected them during his life, which was another reason Arya loved them so much. She was sitting beside him, her legs too short so she was swaying with them lightly, listening to him with utter captivation._

Those days had been long gone…

Arya blinked, taking a deep breath and shaking her head. What was the point of dwelling in the past? Things had changed. That was a fact. She was not a small child anymore. What she used to find new and thrilling changed to real danger. Running away from pursuers was just another exciting adventure to her before – if she cared at all. She had not thought about the pursuing and insecurity, the fear and pain…

She had been aware of all that before. But had she really understood what it meant?

Arya looked over her shoulder where Jaqen was sitting on the beach. Was he thinking the same?

He perhaps was not so worried about being chased on his own, but with her everything was more difficult, more dangerous…

Arya sat down, taking a fig Vali offered her with muttered thanks.

So many times before she could not imagine what he was thinking. This time she might know…

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hello my dear readers! Thank you for sticking up with this story :-) After a bit of a hiatus another chap. Read, enjoy and please comment! Thanks!


	61. Truth

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Part V - Exile

They travelled in silence. Vali was dozzing off in Arya's saddle while Arya was watching Jaqen's back in front of her. The worry burdening her mind had not lifted, embracing her like a dark cloud. Their journey led through the inland and the sun was shining right at the back of their heads. Arya lowered for her water bottle and took a sip, pouting as the water was warm.

When the sun went down they stopped for rest. Jaqen walked to Arya's horse, taking Vali down the saddle, easing him on the sand.

"Should we make fire?“

"No,“ Jaqen said. "The night is warm.“

Arya nodded, sitting on the ground and letting out a silent sigh. Jaqen sat down nearby, shadows emphasizing the features of his face. Arya glanced at him, noticing the vacant look of his eyes, as he was deep in his thoughts again. She feared what the thing on his mind might me.

_When we arrive to Norvos..._

Arya shook her head. Just the thought was terrible, let alone... She gave him another look. Never before had she felt so distant from him despite being a few feet away.

Could that be because he had decided to leave her?

But would he do it?

She did not even realize she was getting up, rushing to him.

"Teach me how to be faceless.“

Jaqen turned at her.

"I want to know. Teach me, Jaqen. I need to know. You said you would teach me.“

She stopped as Jaqen slowly raised, his darkened eyes stuck in hers, his tall figure towering above her.

"Teach me how to be faceless,“ she repeated louder. "Show me. I know what you want to do. You want to leave me in Norvos. I will not accept that. You  _must_ teach me.“

Jaqen was watching her silently, his impenetrable expression unchanging.

"I will take care of myself,“ Arya said, keeping her voice firm. „Make me faceless, Jaqen.“

The assassin lifted his arms and held her shoulders, Arya's eyes fixed on his face.

"I cannot, Arya...“ he said eventually. His voice was unusually soft.

"Why?“ she demanded.

"I do not want you to become no one,“ he said quietly. Arya just stared at him.

"Would you really give up everything?“ he asked.

"I would,“ she said.

"Even your name?“ he asked. „Even your mind? And your memories?“

He held her tighter.

"Would you be willing to forget everything? Would you be willing to forget who you are?“

Arya's lips cracked open as she was comprehending the meaning of his words.

"Tell me, Arya,“ he said. Arya was trying desperately to find an answer. Yet she knew it the first time he had said it.

She simply shook her head, lowering her eyes.

"I would teach you, Arya, if you really wanted to,“ Jaqen said. „But I am glad you chose differently.“

Arya exhaled, not lifting her head.

"And you have given up everything?“ she asked then.

"I have,“ he said. "And I hated the thought you would, too. Nothing is worth it.“

Arya was standing there motionless, arms along her hips.

"I wanted to teach you, back in the past, though,“ Jaqen said. "But I have changed my mind soon.“

Arya took a few seconds.

"You have been decided to leave me, I know that. I saw it in your face.“

"You were right,“ Jaqen agreed. A stab of pain went through Arya's chest.

"Would you do it?“ she asked silently.

"I should,“ he said. "It would be for the best.“

"But the question was - would you really do it?“

Arya finally looked up. She could not say what he was thinking.

"I promised not to leave you behind,“ Jaqen said finally, avoiding the question. But Arya thought he maybe did not know himself. She could even understand his reasons. But she would not accept it, never.

"Who is Nyraia?“

From the look he gave her she found out he had not been expecting it.

"How...“

"You said it yourself, from a dream.“

Jaqen's eyes narrowed slightly but his expression changed soon, his face relaxing.

"I have forgotten her name many years ago,“ he said. „That night after the rain I remembered again.“

"Who was she?“ Arya asked, longing to know the answer.

"I do not know,“ Jaqen said. „I knew only her name. She was in my cell.“

He fell in silence and Arya recalled the story he had told her in Lorath.

"When I escaped I took her with me. But they caught her. I do not know what happened to her but I assume she must be dead.“

Even in the dark night Arya could see Jaqen's look hazing with the old memories.

"She used to hold my hand in the cell, when she was afraid.“

His eyes regained their attentiveness quickly. Arya remembered when he had said her name. He was looking at her almost like he thought  _she_  was her...

Jaqen's warm hand slowly ran up Arya's arm, his fingers touching her face and Arya pulled closer to him abruptly, pressing her lips against his. Although they still did not have any plan and their future was uncertain, Arya felt like a heavy burden fell off her shoulders at the moment. Jaqen's arms wrapped around her and she cowered in his embrace, kissing him, her both palms on his cheeks.

„My little Arya,“ he said to her ear. „I wish I were able to protect you.“

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Editted this chap, hope you like. An intimate one:-) Hope I explained more about faceless + a little bit more from Jaqen's past. I have never intended Arya to become faceless and even on the TV Jaqen would not train her, ha ha:-) Anyway, thanks for reading and please comment. Thanks!


	62. Naked

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Part V - Exile

“I’ve never lived in a house like this…” Vali said, sitting on a bed in their new Norvos house. Arya walked into his room, leaning against the doorposts. The journey was exhausting and long and she barely kept her eyes open. It was luck Jaqen found a house soon and they managed to arrive before another coming storm, which made the afternoon dark almost as night and the air was dump and thick.

“We can stay here for some time,” she said. “You’ll like Norvos, I think.”

Vali gave her a small smile. He did not ask about his fate once they would decide to go.

“I’ll take you to the city one day,” Arya said. “But now have some rest.”

But Arya was more talking to herself than Vali as she walked the stairs up to the second floor to her room, falling on the bed. Jaqen was gone but she wanted to wait for him. She closed her eyes, her aching body not able to relax. She did not want to see a saddle for at least a month.

She recalled the talk she had with Jaqen. They had not spoken about it ever since.

If only there was something she could do…

Arya stirred in her light sleep and opened her eyes. Although she was tired out, something was preventing her from falling asleep. It was dark around; judging by the air she thought it was after midnight. The house was quiet, only rain was soothingly hitting the roof but Arya knew what had woken her up. She sat up, heading down to the back of the house.  

Jaqen was standing by the stone tub and steam was rising from the hot water he had brought by their servant. He took off his armour and vest, his dark skin glimmering faintly as he took a cloth and started washing down his arms. He was bowed and his movements were giving away only a small fraction of his exhaustion.

Arya noticed the big red scar on his hip. She closed her eyes for a moment. She should better get a grip of herself, she thought, this fear, or whatever it was, was not welcome in their current situation at all.

But she had felt like that since their encounter with the Ruthraya and this new experience was more than unpleasant.

“Why are you hiding?”

Arya winced, looking over her shoulder. Jaqen was still turned away from her.

“I wanted to see you,” she said and walked closer to him, breathing in the warm steam. He did not move. His head was bowed and his wet hair was hiding his face but Arya saw his eyes were closed.

“Jaqen…”

She reached for his arm. She sensed him distancing from her.

“My heart,” she said quietly. “My love…”

She stood on her toes and kissed his neck.

Jaqen breathed in abruptly and turned to face her, his fingers sinking into her arms as he pushed her against the wall.

Arya gasped. He bit her neck, his body pulsing with a sudden burst of energy. She ran her hand through his hair and grasped it tightly. He grabbed the straps of her vest and tore it, exposing her chest. Goose bumps tickled down her breasts.

He supported her back with his right arm and lifted her up, taking her to the stone niche.

She saw his eyes burning into her when he pressed her hard against the cold stones. She scratched his back with her fingers. Each his touch on her skin was feeding the fire building inside her.

He held her head in his palm and pulled her closer, his body already crushing her against the wall. Arya snapped at him, her teeth brushing over his lips, a single drop of his blood falling from the wound.

Jaqen pulled her even closer and thrust even more forcefully. She could hear him grunting with effort, locked in his grip.

She wrapped her other arm around his shoulders, cold water dripping down the ceiling falling on her face, into her half-opened mouth.

His tongue ran up her groin and stomach, licking the sweat off her skin and nipples. She moaned silently and with a cry, she gritted her teeth, pushing herself off the wall and turning around, climbing on top of him. She grabbed the ledge firmly, supporting herself with both her knees propped up against the niche.

His hands were on her buttocks, pushing her vigorously. Arya bowed, her sweaty hair falling over her eyes, her hands clutching the ledge white-knuckled. She met the look of his eyes.

She straightened up and arched, the water rivulet falling in between her breasts. His hands covered her breasts and shivers poured all over her body. She groaned and felt Jaqen tense underneath her as well; he grabbed her around the waist and lifted, pinning her against the wall. It took her breath away and she gasped inaudibly, her legs wrapped around his waist, her face buried in his hair.

And then Arya slackened, her body caught in a spasm. She closed her eyes shut and sank her teeth to the skin on his nape. Jaqen tensed as well, crushing her in his embrace.

Arya heard only her own furious heartbeat and Jaqen’s heavy breathing. She was hanging limply on him, wet and trembling, inhaling the smell of his warm skin, her eyes half-lidded with exhaustion. He took a deep breath then, lowering her to the ground.

She swayed instantly, almost falling on the ground if it were not for his arms catching her. Her legs were weak like made of dough, as if she had not stood for centuries. She looked up to his face, to the dark blue eyes.  

The veil in them… so well known… was gone once again…

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Yes, some "action," again. Thanks for reading, hope you liked and comment please!


	63. Gift

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Part V - Exile

When Arya woke up, she had no idea what time it could have been, but she felt like sleeping for at least a year. She rolled over in her bed and grunted, opening her eyes. She looked at the side of the bed. Jaqen had already been gone and the mattress was cold.

When she washed by the basin with fresh water and put on her clothes, for the first time since she had left Braavos, she was feeling some relaxation.

Vali was sitting outside the house on a stone bench with a book in his hands, swaying his right leg in the air.

“You can read?” Arya asked, puzzled and Vali grinned, shaking his head.

“No, but I like the pictures.”

“We could go to the city in the afternoon,” Arya suggested, sitting beside him. “To get you a better stick, perhaps.”

Vali looked at the pine stick he took from the grove.

“I think this suits me,” he said and Arya raised an eyebrow.

“You’re neither a slave, nor a beggar anymore,” she said.

“For some time,” Vali agreed. “I know you’ll leave.”

_Who will leave? Will he leave?_

Arya fell silent. He was right. But she wanted to think something up for him. She did not want him to go beg on the streets again.

“That’s fine,” he said quickly, his voice light as ever. “I can take care of myself.”

Arya let it without an answer. She believed he would take care of himself, but it was not the kind of life she would imagine for him. Then again, she thought, she should not get so attached to him. And there were things she could not change.

She looked up and saw Jaqen opening the gate of their courtyard, walking in. He looked her in the eyes wordlessly and Arya’s mind returned to the last night.

“Come with me. I have something to show you,” he said then and Arya’s eyebrows went up. She did not think Jaqen was in the mood for teasing them with a joke but it surely seemed like that. Vali obviously was not suffering from her suspiciousness and got up as quickly as he could, grabbing the stick and limping towards him. Arya followed him much more reluctantly.   
“Look at the boy, Arya,” Jaqen said when she was passing him.

“That is how you should obey.”

She shot him a look and noticed the sparks in his eyes. This time he was _definitely_ teasing.

“Teach me,” she said and cracked a benevolent smirk.

They were walking through the city, Vali limping in front of them and Arya thought they must have looked like some really weird family. Jaqen led them to a narrow street aside, stopping by an old, dark house. He knocked on the door and an old bearded man appeared.

“Oh, that’s you,” he said with recognition and invited them in. Arya still had no idea what it had been all about but Vali had already been inside and she followed. It was only one small room and it was stuffed with odds and ends. Arya looked over the junk and then she slowly started to understand, turning and looking at Jaqen thoughtfully. Meanwhile the man returned, carrying a strange instrument in his hands.

“This is what you wanted, I think,” he said to Jaqen, who nodded and gestured to Vali.

“Try it on, boy.”

Vali did what he was told, sitting down on a dangerously shaky chair. The old man, who seemed to be a bit jumpy thanks to the look Jaqen was giving him, was hopping around Vali and helping him with strapping all the belts, acting as if the small one-legged beggar boy was the favourite son of a mighty king.  

“Done, I believe,” he breathed out eventually, straightening up.

“Try to stand up,” Jaqen said and Vali caught the chair, getting up slowly. He shifted his weight on his left leg and the wooden construction supported him easily. Vali looked up with his mouth and eyes wide open and Arya thought it might have been for the first time in many years he could stand like that again.

Jaqen gave the man a few coins and they left, taking the longer way home so Vali could try his new leg. He was dancing in front of them all the time, crying out with joy and Arya could not help but started laughing as well. She turned at Jaqen, whose face was once again an unreadable mask. But deep down in his eyes she could see the light of satisfaction.

“That was nice,” she said.

“I was merely paying back my debt,” Jaqen said.

Back home they sat down on the stone bench outside, both of them watching Vali still enjoying his life-changing gift. They were silent. Arya reached for Jaqen’s hand and held it, the assassin giving her a deep look.

 “Thank you!”

Jaqen looked at Vali standing in front of him with happiness spurting from his eyes. The boy did not say anything more but Jaqen nodded lightly. Vali turned and ran away again, singing a song and Arya leaned against the wall and closed her eyes.

She thought about how natural such a moment felt to her, yet she knew it was only an exception, something that would not happen again. A single sun beam protruding through the black sky.

Therefore, she said to herself, she was going to enjoy it. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Yes, a bit of a fluffy one, but hey, everybody needs a break, especially faceless men and their girlfriends :-) I promise it'll soon get back to dark and depressive :-D :-). Anyway, hope you liked, even Jaqen can be sweet sometimes. Thank you for reading and again for all the comments, feedback and cudos, I love it and please, leave a comment again :-D Thanks!


	64. Fear

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Part V - Exile

They killed her right on the street. Some children found her in the morning. She was naked and mutilated, her eyes wide open, staring blankly at the peaceful blue sky. She was a prostitute from one of the cheap brothels near the shantytown and could not be older than fifteen.

No effort to find the murderer was made.

Arya was there the day she had been found, further from the bystanders. Her eyes were dark, unlike the curious, fascinated eyes of the rest of the gapers.

She was playing with the idea she could find who had done that and bring him justice. But she kept in vivid memory her spree in Westeros, naming herself the _avenger_. She did not want to tease that side of her…

Nevertheless, a few days later she found herself in front of the brothel the girl worked for. Wearing casual clothes of Norvos people, there was nothing extraordinary on her looks and she asked the girl standing in the brothel door.

Her name was Lysette and she was quite popular. She had many regular customers. No, nobody who would be suspicious. Maybe except the young man who would pay only for talking to Lysette. He never touched her. Lysette just told him what he wanted to hear but one day she threw him out of the room and he was angry, never before would he yell and spit out such nasty words…

Lysette’s friend described him.

“He didn’t tell his name but he always smelled of oil…”

Arya thanked and left. It was time to visit the market.

She found him the other day. Young, black-haired, unusually pale for someone from Norvos. Thin and tall. Shy, one could say. When he was selling his oils, Arya visited his home and found bloodied clothes under his bed. She did not need much imagination to put it all together…

He confessed to everything. One look to Arya’s eyes was enough, he knew he was finished.

“I wanted her for myself!”

Arya approached him silently, piercing the poisoned spike through his neck. He collapsed to her feet. Arya put a dead wasp next to his head and escaped to the night.

Jaqen had still been gone when she came back to the house. She sat down on the stone bench, closing her eyes. She did not feel anything. She did not feel rage, anger or satisfaction. Nothing but the same emptiness.

At moments like that Arya felt the evil in the world too much. She felt its heavy, dark poison falling on her, choking her. It was something that would never change. No one could change it. And she had not changed much by killing the man. There were hundreds, thousands like him who would never be punished…

The despair, pain and injustice, poverty and greed. And cruelty... People blind to suffering of the others…

Arya rubbed her eyes. She should have stopped such thoughts earlier. But sometimes when she was alone with her fears she was too weak to resist them. It was when Jaqen was not around and loneliness secretly crept into her heart, isolated from the rest of the world, leaving her only with her own dark thoughts about misery and things that were unchangeable. She should not load all that on her shoulders but somehow she would do it again…

She looked up, disrupted from her musings by the sound of silence, the sound that could mean only one thing. He was walking noiselessly towards her, the shadowy figure with piercing blue eyes. Warmness spread inside her chest but the cold echo remained.

“Jaqen…”

He stopped and looked her in the eyes.

“What is it?” he asked as he read in her look, concern written deep in the blue orbs. Arya shook her head and stood up, putting her arms around him, pressing against him. She kissed him and Jaqen did not move away but pulled her closer.

Arya felt the tension flaming in her body, in her chest and in her stomach. Somewhere in the back of her head she thought that Vali could be watching them from the window, but she did not care…

Jaqen took her under the roof overhang, though, while Arya had already been half-way through his pants. She let the tension building up in her act and lead her arms.

Jaqen pulled her up, stripping her off her trousers. She bit on the sleeve of his shirt to silence herself, hanging on him with her both legs clenched tight around his waist.

She could hear his grunts, she felt the clay in the wall crumbling against her back, the sharp stones jabbing to her hot skin. Sweat drops were trickling down her neck and breasts.

His hand was holding her back firmly, the other hand grabbing her left leg and when he looked up, their eyes met.

A bird hooted in the olive and pine trees. The air was warm and suffused with the chirring of cicadas. Jaqen let her slowly slip on the ground.

“I will have to leave.”

When he said that, Arya found herself not surprised at all.

“Where?”

“It is a place far away,” he said, looking into her eyes.

“A place where I may find answers to my questions.”

Arya nodded slowly. She was still breathing heavily and Jaqen’s chest was still moving fast. So he was planning to leave her alone. Alone with her fears…

“Will you go with me?”

That Arya did not expect. Her mouth opened slightly and after a couple of seconds she gave him a small nod. Her expression of utter surprise made Jaqen smirk. He titled his head on side and sparks flashed in the depths of his eyes.

“Speechless again?” he said in a low, teasing voice and his warm palm ran up her hip. Arya twitched and narrowed her eyes a bit.

“If you’re trying to disconcert me you’ll have to work on it a bit more,” she remarked, albeit untruthfully and Jaqen raised an eyebrow and pulled her closer, his hand going down between her legs.

“Like that?”

Arya yelped and freed herself from him, taking a step back. She regarded him with a look but could not keep her face straight and laughed. Jaqen chuckled and she could see something in his eyes she had not seen there for a very long time. She felt the cold remainder of her fear melting away. She knew she would not be alone…

 _“An shytta tu dagsaa vissten,”_ she said. _I will always follow you._

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> OK, a little bit of "action" again, hope you like it and comment please!  
> Thanks!


	65. Open

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Part V - Exile

“I do not even know whether he’s dead or alive. But I must try to find him.”

“Why would he know? Who is he anyway?”

“Someone from the past. Someone forgotten…”

“And he can help us?”

“He could.”

Arya frowned, sitting in the sand and looking at the horizon lightening up in the fresh morning hours. She was holding the reins of her horse, still breathing heavily after the difficult training.

She missed their trainings so much she had not realized it until they went for one again. It was around midnight when Jaqen woke her up with a light touch on her shoulder and she gladly followed him out. They took off into the wasteland, running in the darkness and once again she felt unbounded, she felt free. The night filled with the sound of their clashing swords.

Arya found out – with relief – her fighting skills had not weakened and she had lasted long in their man-to-man combat, before Jaqen pushed the sword out of her hand and she ended spread on the ground on her back.

“Well, I guess it’s the best thing to do,” she said after a while, wiping the dust off her shoulders and chest. “If there’s any hope he can help us, we should try it.”

Jaqen was standing above her, running his gloved hand over Glashtyn’s neck, talking silently to his ear. His new horse was almost as wild and indomitable as Sypherion had been. Arya chose him because of that, she wanted an animal that would subdue only to one master. And she could tell Jaqen enjoyed taming and training him.

He did not answer, though. Arya looked up at him. He seemed different the last days and it was not the usual type of different. Although he still spoke little and kept much to himself, there was something else as well, something… _new_.

Arya got up and approached him, touching his arm. He lowered his eyes to her. And again, she could see it right there in his dark blue orbs. This _something_ …

“Let’s go,” he said then, getting into the saddle. Glashtyn neighed and rose up but Jaqen pulled the reins tightly and the horse obeyed, getting down. He kicked Glashtyn’s hips and cantered away with Arya following him, running across the desert back to the gates of Norvos.

“Come back, my little dove… I want your sweet pussy here…”

Arya stopped on the street to let the giggling woman run back to the house. She shook her head. The sun was almost up but the brothel was still full of men enjoying themselves. A young woman was standing by the door, her beautiful face suffering from the overuse of make-up. She looked at her, her eyes shifting over Jaqen and she raised an eyebrow, revealing her white teeth in a lascivious smile.

“Looking for entertainment?” she asked him in low tone.

“Keep this entertainment to yourself,” Arya grunted and the woman laughed, walking back to the house.

“Disgusting…” Arya muttered to herself. Jaqen gave her a side look.

“Coming from a killer like you?” he said. “I must have forgotten how prudish and chaste you actually are.”

He looked back at the street, a smirk playing on his lips.

“Especially the last night,” he added. Arya opened her mouth but closed it again, frowning. Unwillingly and with reluctance, she wondered how many women Jaqen had had before her. It would be foolish to presume she was Jaqen’s first and only. He was a lot older and she had noticed how women were looking at him. That was why she snapped. That was why she felt angry at herself. She hated her jealousy.

“I’m hopeless,” she murmured. She needed to accept it. And control it.

Back in the house they led the horses to the stable, taking the saddles off and wiping the sweat off their back.

“We should leave tomorrow,” Jaqen said. Arya looked up.

“But Vali –“

“I have already arranged that, he will be fine,” Jaqen interrupted her. Arya nodded.

Deep in her stomach she started to feel the shivering she usually did when there was something coming. But this time, he let her decide, he let her choose whether to go or not.

Was _that_ what she found different about him? He accepted her will. He allowed himself to let her be by his side. Not one step behind him as she had always been.

“Arya,” Jaqen pulled her back to the present. She turned at him with a question in her eyes. But he did not need to say anything. She had already understood all that was on his mind.

“I know it will be dangerous,” she said. “Everything we do is _._ But I’m not letting you leave without me.”

The firm tone of her last words made Jaqen smirk softly. Arya raised an eyebrow.

“What? Have you just imagined how furious I would be after finding out you left on your own?”

Jaqen’s eyes flashed and he chuckled briefly.

“I would not dare…” he said and kept looking her in the eyes for a couple of seconds before taking his glove off and touching her cheek. He kissed her gently, his hot breath making her legs weak, the scent of the warm skin on his neck clouding her senses. She embraced him, aware that what she loved the most she held in her arms.

He pulled her closer and ran a hand through her hair, whispering to her ear.

_“Nyalla ata egillis tu.”_

_I am glad you go with me._

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Yay, this is the last instalment in the Part V - Exile. I hope you enjoyed it, thank you very much for your kind comments and kudos and hope you'll carry on reading :-) I wanted to show Jaqen's change in opening up more to Arya, as well as showing Arya growing much more independend and self-confident, yet she still has weaknesses like all of us:)  
> I have the ending in my mind already but it'll take a few more chaps and at least one or two more parts so stay tuned.   
> Happy you are reading and drop a comment, please :)) Thank you!


	66. Silence

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Part VI - Destiny

She had never heard such silence before. No insect, no wind blowing, no sea murmuring. Nothing.

Was it death? Could she hear her heart beating?

Arya drew a shaky breath. Her body was stiff and cold. She could not move a muscle.

_This is grave._

Her eyelids were heavy, too heavy to lift. Something was laying on them.

_Burial stones._

Arya felt her heart tremble feebly. The last desperate attempt to keep the body alive.

This is not how it should have ended.

Silver mist embraced her. Her mind was falling asleep. Even the most persistent thoughts had to give up.

_We should have never gone there._

Such silence…

_Don’t turn around. Jaqen, please…_

* * *

 

Annwyn. The lost city. The place of rejected. Only a few people knew where to find it. And those who wanted to get there would never return.

Up on a great hill called R’rah – _cuspid_ , a dead forest was sticking up from the ground, like silver hair on an old skull. The trunks were branchless, with bark white as bones. A poisonous rain long time ago had killed the trees and albeit some grass and plants were still growing there, no trees could live there anymore.

Annwyn was hidden under R’rah, protected by the hill from strong winds and storms, embraced by the lake Heim on two sides.

The way to Annwyn was so difficult, long and dangerous it prevented unwanted visitors from finding the place. Only those really determined would be able to find it. It had taken months to find the ancient path leading to the city and more months to walk it.

From the highest point of R’rah the city could be seen clearly, the elliptic shape of it reminding of a dragon’s egg. Houses were built far from each other, made of greyish stone, with very little windows and solid doors. Some of the houses were empty, waiting for their new residents. The city was interwoven with dark green ivy and other bushes, making each house its own isolated island. From the first look it seemed impossible anybody would live there. Annwyn looked more like abandoned ruins than a city someone could be resident in. No movement could be seen, no sound could be heard, no signs of people, no domestic animals, nothing…

But they were there, watching cautiously, evaluating the situation.

Two strangers on R’rah. What brought them there?

Lyggeron was standing motionlessly by his narrow window, his eyes fixed upon the pair up on the hill. Evening was slowly falling over Annwyn, bringing cold air and silence, and the two figures seemed more like a game of shadows than real people. But Lyggeron’s well-trained eyes saw more than those of common people. One from the pair was a tall man, the other was a young woman, both lean, both wearing dark clothes.

Killers? Assassins?

Annwyn had not had a new resident for over than thirty years and Lyggeron somehow sensed these two were not planning to stay and live in one of the houses.

But if they did not want to stay, what else could they need? It was not possible they would somehow find Annwyn by mistake.

Lyggeron frowned. With a feeble hint of suspicion he thought they could have been looking for someone and if this someone could be him.

“Nonsense,” he murmured to himself, frowning at the sound of his own voice. He had not spoken to anyone in months.

His black eyes narrowed. Why would he assume somebody could be looking for him? He had no family and no friends. Nobody knew he was there, he made sure of it when he had been leaving Braavos.

He froze where he stood, his look absent and unfocused but his mouth slowly opened. A shard of a memory flashed in his mind, like a fish brushing against his leg when he last went fishing to the lake. The memory was so distant and long forgotten he could not be sure if it had really happened.

A pair of dark blue eyes that were watching him, looking right through him.

He knew that eyes, he had been looking into them before…

_“You’ll see your guts right on the stairs, sailor…”_

Lyggeron shivered with the old memory, quickly looking down at his wrists as if he thought he could still see the rope they were bound with.

_“Are you going to scream?”_

He had almost forgotten that it had happened. It was more like it happened to someone else, someone he knew but had not seen in ages.

He was a different person back then. He _was_ someone else.

_“You think you’ll do something about it?”_

Lyggeron closed his eyes. He could hear him laugh.

_“I’ll make sure you’ll watch.”_

The iron sound of a knife.

_“Don’t tell me you wouldn’t want to see your insides, pretty boy.”_

His heart beat was nearly as strong as it had been the day he had been laying on the cold stones of the harbour. Stones soon covered in warm blood. The savage blue eyes gave him one brief look. There was nothing to be seen in them.

Lyggeron took a deep breath, returning to the present. He had finished with this life long time ago. He did not need to have any memories of it. But the blue eyes he would not forget.

Looking out of the window he realized the two figures had disappeared. Slowly he walked across the room, taking a sword from the secret place in the stone wall. He checked the blade and made sure it had still been as sharp as ever.

Many people died by this sword.

Lyggeron weighed the weapon in his hand. If they were looking for him, he would be ready.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> OK, the beginning of the next part. More will be explained soon, of course. Thank you for reading and hope you enjoyed :-)


	67. Uninvited

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Part VI - Destiny

Arya was looking at the city spread below, the indefinable feeling of threat growing in her chest. She glanced at Jaqen standing next to her, his blue eyes darkened as he was watching the same sight. It seemed like the city had been completely abandoned, yet a vague sense of life had been present.

“This place gives me shivers,” Arya uttered. Unwittingly she made sure all her weapons were in place.

“It is meant to,” Jaqen said quietly. “Those who live here do not wish to be found. They despise intruders.”

“Seems like a great place to visit,” Arya remarked, taking a deep breath.

“Are you sure the man we are looking for is here?” she asked. Jaqen gave a small, bitter smirk.

“There is only one way how to find out,” he said. Twilight of the evening was slowly turning to thick darkness of the night when they proceeded the hill down to the city. They let the horses wait in the forest and Arya felt much more imperilled walking on the ground than being in the saddle.

Passing house after house, Jaqen stopped by each one, studying carefully the windows and doors and touching the walls. Arya did not feel much helpful as she did not know what he was looking for, but she was at least paying attention to any suspicious sounds or movements around.

“Aren’t they actually empty?” she asked – with a bit of hope – when Jaqen was standing by another house.

“No,” he said. “There is someone inside.”

Arya shivered. What kind of people could be living in a place like that? What could have drawn them there?

“Jaqen?”

Jaqen did not move. He was holding his gloved hand on the massive wooden door of the house, his eyes focused on something near the door handle which looked like a very small carving. A rune?

“He knows we came,” Jaqen said more to himself. Arya got a hold of her sword. Jaqen straightened, his hand going for the sword hilt as well.

In a split second the door flew open and a blue light of a blade flashed in front of Arya’s eyes. Jaqen deflected the blow instantly, pushing the figure inside and Arya followed with her sword pointed at their opponent. 

They kept fighting inside, with Arya trying to get to him from the side. She could already tell the man was skilled but they managed to push him to the corner. Soon enough Jaqen was pressing the blade of his sword against the other’s neck.

“Enough?” Jaqen said, his eyes narrowed, as he was towering above the other.

“Yes,” the other man said with anger. “I don’t want you to destroy my house.”

Jaqen nodded once, taking a step back and withdrawing his sword, albeit still staying alert. The two were looking into each other’s eyes, the dim light coming through the narrow windows revealing partially the face of the unknown man and Arya saw worry and suspicion in his features.

“What do you want?” the man asked.

“To talk,” Jaqen said.

“I will not talk to you,” the man said. “Now get out of the house.”

Jaqen stood his ground.

“Light the candles,” he said instead. The other man obeyed reluctantly, soon enough the small room was filled with flickering orange light while the man was covering the windows with wooden planks. He turned at Jaqen then, his expression weary.

“Why did you come?” he asked quietly. “You shouldn’t have to.”

“I said I came to talk,” Jaqen repeated and after a couple of seconds he added: “Lyggeron.”

The man twitched slightly and a cold smirk spread on his lips.

“And what name do you use, if I may ask?”

“You can call me Jaqen H’ghar,” Jaqen said and Lyggeron’s eyebrows went up.

“Really? That’s interesting…” he remarked and Arya frowned with confusion.

“Let’s not waste time,” Jaqen continued. “I came to you for help.”

Judging by Lyggeron’s previous behaviour Arya could tell his attitude had changed considerably. The worry and suspicion in his face was replaced by sheer curiosity and he sat down to the table, gesturing them to do the same.

Arya slowly took a seat, still holding her sword, though. Lyggeron’s eyes shifted to her, his look almost as piercing as Jaqen’s.

“Care to explain who she is?” he asked.

“My companion,” Jaqen said simply and Lyggeron snorted.

“I don’t think so,” he said quietly, looking back at him. “You shouldn’t have brought her here, this place must remain secret.”

“She won’t speak of it,” Jaqen said. “You have my word.”

Lyggeron stayed silent for a moment.

“When I last saw you you’d been hardly twelve years old,” Lyggeron said and Arya raised an eyebrow, turning at Jaqen, who was frowning slightly.

“It’s been a long time,” Lyggeron added. “And seeing you here and with that girl can mean only one thing – you’ve ran.”

Jaqen did not tell anything but Lyggeron obviously did not need to hear it aloud.

“Why?”

Jaqen shook his head.

“That is not your business.”

Lyggeron smirked.

“I can’t tell I’m surprised, though,” he said. “You always seemed a bit unstable to me, although nobody else could see it.”

Arya coughed as she could not stay silent any longer and Lyggeron turned at her.

“Would you explain how you know each other?” she asked. Lyggeron regarded her with a look.

“I have a very strong feeling you have something to do with his desertion, girl. Perhaps _you_ could explain to _me_?”

Arya narrowed her eyes, staying silent.

“You have been training her, I can notice,” Lyggeron remarked to Jaqen without looking at him.

“Impressive… And considering you came to me for help, I’m afraid you will have to explain a lot more to me.”

He sat back, relaxing.

“And I’d like to hear this story full.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks for reading, hope you liked and leave a comment, please :-)


	68. Origins

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Part VI - Destiny

Annwyn was quiet the same, no matter if it were day or night. Arya was sitting outside Lyggeron’s house, leaned against the door and looking up at the sky. They have talked for hours – most of the talking did Jaqen, though, and she still was not convinced this Lyggeron would help them.

They had asked for privacy a while ago and Arya went outside, alone with her troubled mind. She slowly got up and walked through the village to the glittering surface of the lake.

She sat down on a rotting tree trunk lying on the bank and watched the water. She repeated the words spoken by Lyggeron.

_“You can never defeat the Ruthraya.”_

That much was finally clear.

“May I have a word?”

Arya jerked, automatically going for the hilt of her sword, when she calmed down. Lyggeron was watching her from the darkness, evidently able to walk as quiet as Jaqen.

She gestured him and he lowered himself onto the trunk next to her.

“I reckon you’ve understood we know each other for some time.”

“Oh, yes,” Arya said with a hint of irony. Lyggeron smirked.

“When I first met _Jaqen_ , it was this young _feral_ boy who slaughtered three men planning to kill me, right in front of me. I still remember his eyes… So _livid_ … We came to the order of the Faceless Men together and I guess we became friends of some sort, even after mastering the Faceless ability.”

Lyggeron paused and Arya took another good look at him. He was of average height, muscular and with dark hair and eyes. He appeared to be in his middle thirties, a bit older than Jaqen, but she knew that impression could be wrong.

“What happened?” Arya asked. “You left?”

“I did,” Lyggeron said. “I guess I’ve had enough, so I vanished.”

“How come they did not find you?”

“They tried,” Lyggeron said. “But I did not break any deal and I found a way how to slip under their eyes.”

“What way?” Arya asked, already alert. Lyggeron gave her a knowing look.

“I know where you are heading, girl. Trust me you won’t have it that easy. Firstly, if I understand right, _Jaqen_ broke a deal, which was on your head, and furthermore he killed the man ordered to do it instead.”

Lyggeron took a breath, shaking his head.

 “And I’m afraid there certainly is someone new to take that task. They want you dead and that won’t change, whether the request is new or old, someone paid for your death and hired a Faceless Man and the deal has been broken. The order of the Faceless Men had its name built by following the three rules you are familiar with, I presume. There must not be any breach.”

Arya frowned but did not say anything. She had been thinking about it herself many times and she knew Jaqen had been keeping them safe by staying at various places only for limited time. She thought about the Red woman, she remembered only briefly her face and they had not met ever since, yet she wanted her dead. What could she see in her future? What actions Arya had done could have threaten her?

As she was not much aware of the events in Westeros, she could not guess. But she assumed the deaths of the Lannisters, including the king, could have been the reason.

But even if it was true, it had happened. It could not be taken back…

“It does not matter how old the deal is. If it is not withdrawn by the buyer themselves, it is rightful – even if the buyer dies,” Lyggeron said as if reading Arya’s thoughts.

“I merely disappeared, there was nothing suspicious about it and now I am believed to be dead. You, on the other hand, won’t rest till the Ruthraya get you and kill you.”

Lyggeron’s eyes were fixed upon the lake. At the moment he seemed much older than a while ago.

“At least he perhaps had a good reason to do that.”

“What?” Arya asked and Lyggeron glanced at her.

“You,” he said.

“But why?” Arya asked, speaking sooner than she could think of it, the question that had been bothering her from the beginning. Lyggeron lightly shrugged.

“He can have various reasons.”

“Tell me one.”

“How could I know?” Lyggeron asked amusedly. “I can guess, though. And my guess would be you reminded something from the past he thought he had forgotten. And he wanted to remember more.”

Arya fell silent. She still had in vivid memory the night Jaqen had spoken the name from his dreams. The girl, Nyraia. A tie to the past. Could it be her she reminded him of?

“It’s funny, though, he calls himself _Jaqen H’ghar_ ,” Lyggeron muttered to himself. “I don’t think he’s actually aware who it is, which makes it even funnier.”

“What are you talking about?” Arya asked and Lyggeron dismissed it with a gesture of his hand.

“That’s not important, girl. What _is_ important, though, is what you expect from me.”

“Tell us what we are supposed to do. Help us escape like you did,” Arya said.

“You can spend the life being on run,” Lyggeron said. Arya regarded him with an unamused look. As much as she used to think this prospect was nothing to worry about, she had already found out the truth was very different.

“We knew that without asking you,” she said. “I thought you were to help us.”

Lyggeron laughed briefly.

“You haven’t exactly come to me with a broken cup, girl. This is one of the most serious situations you could possible put yourself in.”

“If this is supposed to be helping, it’s not,” Arya said.

“And I still don’t get it. You’ve left the order and they did not seem to care much to find you? I thought they were regulating the order, not allowing the Faceless Men to go on their own.”

“That is correct,” Lyggeron said. “And also the reason they let it be.”

Arya raised an eyebrow.

“Would you explain?”

“When I left, I knew they wouldn’t stop looking for me unless I took the reason for it away.”

“The reason?”

Lyggeron nodded.

“As a Faceless Man leaving the order I became dangerous. But as a regular man I was harmless. Not worth looking for.”

“What do you mean, _regular man_?” Arya asked, getting slightly irritated. Lyggeron noticed it in her tone and it made him smirk at her.

“This face you see, girl, is the only face I have. I am no longer a Faceless Man. I am as common as any other man.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Yep, another revealing part. Hope you liked and comment, please! :)


	69. Unknown

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Part VI - Destiny

“I have never been able to give up _everything_. That is – I’m sure – the reason I had decided to give up on my Faceless ability. I couldn’t bear being no one and I still had – albeit weak – memory of some things from my past. But I had been planning my escape for a very long time. I’d been asking questions the high priests of my order, only time to time to prevent suspiciousness. I wanted to know if it was possible to lose the Faceless ability and become _someone_ again. It had taken a lot of time but then I had what I needed to know. It was possible but the process was difficult and performed only few times in history. You see, there aren’t many men who would desire to stop being _no ones_.”

Lyggeron paused for a while. The sun proceeded on its way up above the hills and mountains, spraying the highlands with orange and red light and greyish mist started slowly raising from the meadows and the lake. Arya was sitting next to Lyggeron, watching the foreign landscape in the early morning. They were only a couple of minutes away from the city but she had the feeling of total isolation.

“Because if you don’t remember who you were, who would you become after taking all the faces away, after stripping to the very core? Sometimes it’s better not to know. When what you can find can be so terrifying. It takes the bravery to look inside the person who you were supposed to be, very long time ago and without the possibility to turn back.”

Lyggeron shook his head slightly.

“You can end up remembering nothing, not even a name. That was what I was afraid of. Being only a shell with no knowledge, soulless, with _nothing._ But you can never know. And the only way to find out is to do it.”

Arya looked away from Lyggeron’s face, trying to loosen the cold grip of her chest. She feared this step to the unknown. Nobody knew what would happen. Jaqen could forget everything, even her. Or he could change, change to someone different… And was that even the way how to break free? What if the Ruthraya did not care and would want to punish them nevertheless? And they could not just go and ask them…

She sighed and closed her eyes, the cold wind blowing against her hair. It was winter wind, carrying the scent of snow and ice. She realized she had not felt such a scent since her last winter in Westeros, when her family had still been alive. It brought back memories that overwhelmed her for a moment but Lyggeron’s voice called her back.

“What?” she asked absent-mindedly.

“They had let me go but I had not broken any deal,” Lyggeron repeated something Arya had long known.

“You know how to do it?” she asked instead, her voice quiet. Lyggeron shook his head.

“I’ve managed once,” he corrected her. “I cannot guarantee anything.”

Arya nodded and got up. She felt his eyes on her as she walked away from him towards the lake, away from the ancient ruins of the city of Annwyn.

Lake Heim was silvery green in the first light of the sunrise and it was so clear the bottom was visible even far from the bank, with the greatest depths going deep green. The water was chilling, so much different from seas and oceans. Arya sank below the surface, feeling her skin bristle. Air got stuck in her lungs but she relished in the coldness and cleanness of the water.

She emerged taking a deep breath, goose bumps growing quickly on her body in the crisp morning air.

She felt relieved a bit, for the first time since they had arrived to Annwyn. She felt misplaced there, like an intruder indeed, this was not the place she wanted to be at. Not now. Maybe never. Falling into oblivion – like Lyggeron. She feared she could ever want something like that. What she wanted was to go back to the lands with hot air and shining sun, with wide oceans and the smell of fried fish and salt and oils and pine resin, with wide wastelands and busy markets.

It was nothing she could call home but yet it was something she longed to return to. She felt _right_ there, in the lands of Essos, in the free cities. Her home were all those places.

The water surface rippled feebly, as if someone blew against it. Arya turned over. Jaqen was standing on the bank, the tips of his shoes nearly touching the water. He was watching her and his eyes seemed distant.

“You’ve come to a decision,” she said. Whatever the decision might be, Jaqen’s expression spoke it was not an easy one.

“I have,” Jaqen said. Arya slowly walked on the lake bank, taking her coat and wrapping it around herself. She felt coldness that had nothing to do with the early morning wind.

“You knew,” she said, “from the start – this is what you expected to find out.”

Jaqen remained silent. His eyes were dark and dwelling deep in his mind. Arya shivered, wrapping the coat closely around her shoulders.

“I do not know what will happen,” Jaqen said. “I can only guess. If something goes wrong, you would be left on your own.”

Arya kept looking him in the eyes.

“Is it really what you want?” she asked quietly. “Do you want to lose that strength?”

“I am not afraid of losing the strength,” Jaqen said. “There are other things I cherish.”

Arya approached him and he put a hand on her cheek, wrapping the other arm around her naked waist. She did not dare to advise him, she was not able to consider the options clearly, only he could.

“I must try,” he said. Arya’s eyes were fixed on his face. Another thing that could change.

 _“Te ramar innar al-daron, iantar riner,”_ she said quietly and Jaqen’s arms closed around her tightly.

_Keep me in your heart, my love._

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Okay, another take. Thanks for reading, hope you liked and please, let me know what you think and comment!


	70. ****AUTHOR'S NOTE****

My dear readers. There has been another looong hiatus but trust me, not only inspiration comes and goes but I also had some serious personal reasons and lost my verve. Anyway, if some of you are still curious how the story would end, I have good news - I have returned and have already planned (and am writing) the ending. So you can be sure to expect more chapters and also, finally, the conclusion. So... I'll post another chap on Friday and then will slowly bring the whole story to its end. Thanks to all of you for reading, liking and commenting on this story so far and also thanks to those still following it. xxx


	71. Abduction

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Part VI - Exile

There was a cave a few miles above the village. Arya was not allowed to go in and was left on her own in the village, which had such a cold and withdrawn atmosphere she longed to be anywhere else but there. Lyggeron told her it could take a few days and Arya soon found out that this kind of waiting was simply agonizing. She felt like losing her mind from the ceaseless worrying and thinking. She preferred staying out the village, wandering around and sitting under trees, staring at the horizon, lost deep in her thoughts.

What if she would never see Jaqen again? Was it possible he would really forget everything, even her?

She shivered at the thought. What would happen then? Their paths would part, he would not be the same person she knew and loved…

Arya let out a long, deep sigh and closed her eyes, leaning her head against the tree. She paid no attention to the pain of her writhing insides, because it was there from the very moment she would wake up and lasted till the time of her restless sleep, when she kept dreaming about the last time she had spoken to him before they had left to the cave.

It had been late in the evening and she was sitting by the lake. She had not liked the feeling of Lyggeron’s house where walls were always closing over her like in a cage. Jaqen had come to her in silence and put arms on her shoulders. Arya had been sure he had wanted to comfort her but the dark look of his eyes had given him away. He too had been afraid, he had longed for her company, he had feared it was the last time they had seen each other… They had stayed still, sitting side by side and watching the calm surface of the lake, when Jaqen had turned at her, kissing her passionately and she had slipped into his arms, revelling in his touch, feeling his hot breath against her shivering skin. They had made love on the lake beach, Jaqen’s strong, dark figure moving above her, crushing her and his stare fixed on her face that was glimmering with tears.

They would lie side by side the whole night and Jaqen would take her hand, placing it over his face, his eyes closed…

Arya felt tears burning in her eyes again. She felt it had been a farewell…

Dark clouds appeared on the east and were growing menacingly over the valley. Arya realized she would have to come to Lyggeron’s house for night, as she would usually spend it outside watching the sky, and slowly she got up with the first sound of thunder. She could already see the lightning above the horizon. Taking the reins of Nuvian, who had once more been her only companion over the last days, Arya started descending back to the village.

Lyggeron’s house was cold, dark and empty. Arya thought, with a grim smirk, it suited her state of mind. She did not bother lighting a candle but sat in the dark room. She battled her urge to go to that cave and see with her own eyes…

She heard the door opening. Her heart bounced as she flew up from the chair, taking the hilt of her sword. She heard steps approaching and grasped the hilt tighter, narrowing her eyes.

_Please, let it be Jaqen…_

The figure came to the dim half-light of the room and Arya let out a long breath of disappointment.

“Lyggeron…” she uttered. The man was watching her silently.

“What happened?” she asked. “Where’s Jaqen?”

“He must stay there for a few more days,” Lyggeron said.

“How did it go?” she asked, keeping her voice from trembling.

“There were some complications…” Lyggeron said, walking over the table. Arya hid her sword and was standing in the semi-darkness, feeling her heart pounding against her rib cage. Complications?

“What complications?”

“Unfortunately, it did not go quite as I planned.”

“What does it mean?” she asked, still doing her best to remain calm.

“What compli – “

She did not even notice him moving. Suddenly he was holding her in his grasp, his hand pressed against her mouth. He was so strong she could not move at all, her mind racing with thoughts.

“I am sorry, but it has to be,” he said. “It’s the only way. I can’t risk them finding me.”

He put a hand to the pocket of his vest and took out a small bottle with transparent liquid. Opening it with his teeth and spitting the cork away, he grabbed her mouth and forced her jaws open, seizing her hair with his other hand and pulling her head backwards. He poured the liquid into her throat and she felt the coldness of it sliding down her insides like a piece of ice. And then, in split second, it started burning like fire growing inside her. She felt her whole body shiver and cold sweat was running down her face. Lyggeron released her and she fell on the ground, shivering violently. Her vision was getting blurry and her tongue was unmoving like dead wood.

“What…”

She could not speak, mere gurgling noises were coming out her mouth. She saw Lyggeron’s figure above her but could not hear anything, only distant rumbling of the blood in the veins in her temples.

And then she did not see or feel anything, she fell into red, burning nothingness.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks for reading!!! I hope there still are some readers left, but I wouldn't be surprised as the hiatus was really very long. Anyway, hope you liked and please let me know what you think in the comments :-)


	72. Déjà vu

It was like going back in time. Once again was she travelling unwillingly, once again she was blinded and her hands and legs tightly tied together. She felt the smell of a horse under her but she was gagged and even if it was Nuvian, she could not give him any order.

Arya did not differ nights from days. Lyggeron did not speak to her. From time to time he forced water or a piece of food down her throat and then he would pour more of the liquid into her mouth, keeping her semi-conscious and on the verge of delusions. Sometimes, when the liquid was wearing off and Lyggeron did not give her another one immediately, at those times when her mind was at its clearest, Arya was asking herself why she had not seen through Lyggeron earlier. She had uncovered so many frauds before, why not this one? It was because Jaqen had trusted him. Jaqen said it was his friend of sort. So why not to trust him? She trusted Jaqen with her whole heart. And to his judgement. But Jaqen was not here. Where was he? Did Lyggeron leave him? Or did he kill him? Perhaps Jaqen was following them. But would he not interfere when Lyggeron was treating her this way? He could not be possibly afraid to attack him, Arya was sure he would defeat him. And where was Lyggeron taking her? What did he plan to do with her? She wished – if his intentions were to kill her – he did it quickly at least, and under the influence of the potion, because it would be too painful to think, too painful to embrace the fact she was to die alone and without any explanation, without knowing what happened to Jaqen…

Arya guessed they travelled for months. She could not recall much of it, though. She spent it in half-sleep, with vivid dreams and nightmares, grateful her mind was so dazed she simply could not think much. Sometimes she could hear sounds of a city nearby, and sometimes they were even going through it and Lyggeron would take her in front of him on his horse, taking the cloth off her eyes for a while, aware she was in no condition to fight back. She could not see clearly, all she saw were blurred colourful spots and strange buzzing sounds.

And then, after what seemed both like a century or a mere second, she smelled the familiar scent of salt and fish and spice and wetness – the sea – and she recognized it instantly. Braavos… He took her back to Braavos, he took her where the Faceless Men Order dwelled, now there was no doubt anymore, he was taking her right there to them and then she was sure, then she knew exactly what he had been intending to do – he wanted to give her to them. So he must have got rid of Jaqen too, he must have killed him when he was vulnerable in the cave…

She could not say when exactly she realized she was sitting on cold stones, but she had a feeling she had been lying prone on them for many hours before finally waking up. There was complete silence around her and she could tell the potion had been wearing off again, because the buzzing sounds in her skull were vanishing.  

_Cold stones… Darkness… Dripping water… I have been here before…_

She moved, the pain in her body shooting into all directions. She was laying on her hip, her hands cuffed behind her back and when she tried to drag her legs, she heard the chains on them rattling.

A cell. She was in a cell…

“Hello…”

It was not even a word, only a strange raspy noise. She took a deep breath and laid still, listening to the echoes of her heart beating. She was cold and aching.

“You’re one lucky girl.”

Somebody spoke to her from the darkness and she knew it was not a dream anymore. Arya did not try to answer but stayed silent, counting her breathing as the floor under her started spinning.

“I thought you were dead, not moving for days…”

Arya rolled on her back and gasped.

“Where am I?”

“Isn’t it obvious? Locked up, girl.”

Arya closed her eyes again, as all she could see was thick darkness.   

“I don’t remember…”

“They brought you here a couple of days ago, even if it’s hard to say here,” said the voice. Arya was now able to tell it was a male voice, coarse and most probably old.

“It was funny, you were talking from your dreams.”

Arya was not in the state to feel much ashamed about it. And she was not surprised she was dream-talking.

“Who are you?” she asked.

“No one,” the man said. With the most shocking vividness it reminded her of her very first encounter with Jaqen. It could easily be the same cell too. It has all started here and obviously, it would all end here as well. And then, with a feeble, wary spark of hope she asked quietly: “Jaqen?”

The man laughed.

“Yes, that’s him. The guy you’ve been calling for. I’m afraid he’s not here. It’s just you and me.”

Arya closed her eyes again.

“And _who_ are you?” she asked again, not ready to deal with the truth yet.

“Jus,” the man said. “I’m here because I broke into the temple… Wanted to know the secrets they are keeping from us. They locked me up. Don’t know what they want to do with me.”

“Do you know what they want to do with _me_?”

“No idea…”

Arya let out a shaky sigh. Her mind was waking up with painful throbbing. She had already got used to the darkness around and her sense of hearing was alert. Dripping of water. Distant bangs like closing of some heavy metal gates. The raspy sound of the man’s breathing… The similarity to the night she had woken up and heard Jaqen’s voice was so strong it overwhelmed her for a moment or two. It could not be the end of it, not like that, without any answers, without any satisfaction…

The man was speaking at her but she did not listen. She curled like an animal and closed her eyes. She was too tired to start making escape plans. Hours passed with no change, the man was silent after she would not respond. And then there were steps, approaching, echoing in the vast dungeons. Soon after that there was torch light crawling over the stone walls. She heard the cracking noise of the sliding ramp. Somebody bowed above her. He pulled her up, unlocked the chains in the wall, put a sack on her head and dragged her along. Arya felt too feeble to resist, she hated the feeling of total weakness, she would fight otherwise, not give up so easily, but there was nothing she could do but let him take her.

“Good luck, girl,” she heard the man behind.   

Arya found it strange there was such silence all around, even after they obviously left the dungeons and were walking up the long, hard stairs. Then she judged they entered a big spacious room – from the way their steps were carried through the air. The man forced her on her knees and finally took the sack off her head.

Arya blinked, momentarily blinded and tried hard to focus. A massive table made of black stone. Five people sitting behind it. Two guards in heavy armour on each side. Arya’s eyes flew over the people in front of her. There were three tall figures in black robes with their faces hidden behind black masks. Right in the middle, sitting in front of her, was a woman with dark hair and piercing eyes. Even after all these years she remembered her face. The face of an eagle. On her left side was Lyggeron, watching Arya with unreadable, passive expression.

“Arya Stark,” the woman said. It was not a question, only a statement.

“You have been escaping for a long time. Today you are here to finally carry the punishment.”

“Punishment for what?” Arya asked. She maybe had no chance to escape, but she was not just going to sit there quietly like a beaten dog.

“Punishment for –“

“For not willing to die?” she asked, smirking. She turned at Lyggeron.

“Where is Jaqen? What did you do to him?”

“The man you know under this name is no longer a concern of yours,” the woman said coldly.

“I want to know what _he_ did to him!” Arya said, her voice getting stronger and louder. She ignored the punch in the back by the guard standing behind her. The black-haired woman was watching her with her eyes ice cold. Then she slowly raised her head and her eyes shifted to Lyggeron, with a small encouraging gesture. Lyggeron’s eyes laid calmly upon Arya.

“I had to kill him. He’s dead.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Another take, expect the next chap tomorrow. Hope you liked and drop a comment, please! I'm slowly finishing!


	73. Reminiscence

_It was late at night and the sky was darkened with a storm roaring in distance above and heavy rain was hitting the roof. Arya was tossing and turning in the bed, unable to fall asleep. The house was empty for many days and the weather too bad and risky for her to go out, so she had to spend it all inside. She could not invest her energy to her usual training and she unfortunately had too much time left for thinking. She did not want to sleep as nightmares were tormenting her, nightmares about her watching the execution of her father, coming late to do anything to prevent the deaths of her mother and brother… His head on a stake…_

_Her guts were twisted painfully; she was clutching her stomach and thinking if she had locked the door properly. It had not been a month yet since Jaqen had broken her free from the cell and the stone walls and the gasps and moaning of the other girl being raped were coming back to her even when she was not asleep. Arya rubbed her eyes. She wished Jaqen would come back, he had been gone for five days now and Arya could not stand to be on her own anymore. Despite all her efforts to forget it, she could vividly recall the touch of the man, over and over again, his fingers on her skin, sliding slowly down her hips and between her legs._

_Arya shivered and held her breath. And then, suddenly, she had the feeling of someone watching her. She sat up swiftly, her heart racing, her hand groping for the dagger under her pillow. Then she relaxed slowly. It was Jaqen, standing in the door, leaning against the frame. It seemed he had been there for a while, looking at her silently with his arms crossed on his chest. Arya gulped._

_“A girl is in my bed?”_

_“I…” she stuttered. She could not possibly tell him she felt safer there, it sounded ridiculous._

_“Anything wrong, lovely girl?”_

_Arya shook her head but was watching him anxiously, clutching the bed sheet in her hands. Jaqen did not say another word but moved into the room and closed the door behind him. Arya could see he was wet all over, his hair covering his eyes. He unbuckled the shoulder armour and took off the leather jacket. She could see the muscles on his arms and stomach stretching. His tall, dark figure seemed like made of wood. He laid down to the bed next to her and let out a tired sigh. His profile was calm and Arya found herself studying it with fascination. It was a rare opportunity when she had it so close and obviously relaxed… She had always thought it was a handsome face, perhaps very handsome, with the straight nose and those lips… Arya blinked. What was she thinking about? And then she felt something fairly different from the anxiety. Such a strange tickling sensation in her belly and she wondered if that had anything to do with Jaqen laying so close to her. It did not seem his intentions were anything else but to have some rest and he simply did not mind her sharing the bed with him. While all this was whirling in her head, she kept staring at him with her eyes wide open. He noticed that, turning at her with a small pout._

_“Yes?” he asked. Arya gazed._

_“Nothing…” she muttered._

_“Then, a man must rest,” Jaqen said and closed his eyes. “A girl should do the same.”_

_When he did not open his eyes again, Arya slowly laid down next to him and kept looking at the ceiling. She was listening to Jaqen’s slow, quiet breathing. She looked at his chest raising and falling regularly and allowed herself to loosen up the stress tying her chest. Minute after minute she felt wearier and realized her mind was calm and at peace. Jaqen turned on his hip and Arya moved closer to him, hesitantly touching his arm. Jaqen sighed in his half-sleep and curled his arm around her._

_“Sleep,” he mumbled then. His skin was warm and had the feeble familiar scent of spice. Arya snuggled up to him, the warm, tickling feeling spreading all over her; she knew at that moment all was fine. She closed her eyes and fell asleep almost instantly._

Arya opened her eyes to the darkness of her cell. She was not dreaming, she knew, but remembering and realized that tears were running down her face. She still refused to accept it was true, that this man had been gone, never to come back, that all the memories she had were the only thing she had left after him. That she would never hear his voice again and look into his blue eyes or feel the touch of his skin.

After Lyggeron told her, she started screaming at them all so loudly and would not shut up even after being punched or kicked that they had to postpone the trial and escorted her back to the cell. Arya was sitting by the cold stone wall with her eyes closed. There was one feeling dominating above others – defeat. She felt she was defeated. She knew Jaqen would want her to fight against it, no matter what, but there was nothing she could do. Somehow this was the end.

They brought her back to the council and Arya was watching them with no emotion but burning hate. The woman was giving her a look of deep loathing and contempt but Arya did her best to return it. She looked at Lyggeron, seeing nothing in his expression. Her mind filled with images of her sticking a knife into his neck.

“A man of our Order you know under the name of Jaqen H’ghar was assigned of killing you. He failed and the task was given to a more competent member. But Jaqen H’ghar had killed this man and escaped with you, breaking the rules of this Order. At that very moment he too had been sentenced to die. Lyggeron, the council demands a proof this man is really dead.”

Firstly since the start of the trial Arya looked up with a feeble spark of hope. Lyggeron stood up, carrying a sack in his hand. He put the sack on the black marble table and opened it. Arya felt as if her heart was pierced and she collapsed on her knees. She could not take her eyes off it. The head… Jaqen’s head…

The black-haired woman took the head into her hands and examined it closely, running finger over it. Arya saw the white streak of hair, the face she used to touch, used to kiss… Now empty, eyes half-open in their dead stare, still bearing the slightest trace of surprise, perhaps when he saw Lyggeron going to decapitate him… And Arya recognized the face instantly, there was no room for mistake, it really was him…

“This could be anybody,” the woman said but Lyggeron smirked.

“The sign is there,” he said and the woman raised her eyebrow, but turned the head and pulled the hair on the nape up. She studied whatever was there and there was a smile of satisfaction on her lips.

“It is him,” she said silently. Arya was trembling and felt sick. She threw up on the floor in front of her but nobody paid any attention. The black-haired woman stood up, handing the head to one of the guards.

“Take it to the temple,” she said. The guard took it and left and she turned at Lyggeron.

“Many names have you got, Lyggeron. You too decided to leave the Order but you did not break any rule. However, you must prove to me you are no longer possessing the face-shifting ability if the council is to let you go. The Order must protect its secrets.”

Lyggeron stood still.

“I am ready.”

The woman approached, taking his face into her hands. She closed her eyes and stayed like that for a while before lowering her arms.

“It is true,” she said. “This is your only face. You are free to go whenever you like.”

Lyggeron nodded and went back to his chair. The black-haired woman finally turned her attention to Arya. Without a further word she descended from behind the table to her, knelt down before her and put her hands on Arya’s face in the same manner. Several moments later she got up.

“He did not teach you,” she said.

“The traitor has been punished. But the Order is not cleaned yet. The Many Faced God demands what is rightfully his. The task has not been done. You, Arya Stark, shall be executed in the third evening from this day and I personally shall be the executioner. You will be taken back to the cell to have time to make peace in your mind and soul. We shall see again in three days.”

The woman nodded at the guards, who took Arya’s cuffed arms and pulled her up.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> My dear readers, thank you for reading :-) Please, drop a comment and let me know what you think! Next chap soon!


	74. The Last Breath

Hours passed slowly in the dungeons as Arya was waiting for the day of her execution. She barely moved and did not sleep at all, leaning against the wall, her head resting limply on her knees. She tried to escape it all by dwelling in her memories, thinking about all the nice things there were, about the time spent with Jaqen on the journeys, the short time of her childhood with her loving family at Winterfell, trying to feel grateful for it, even if it was going to end so abruptly, so soon. But she could not. She wanted more. She did not want to die… Now when she knew what was coming, she felt her heart beating, her blood flowing in her veins and she could not grasp the fact it was all going to be over in less than three days.

She could not cry anymore but the terrible fear was eating her inside. She feared death. She thought she had not, but it was not true. She feared death. The moment her heart would stop beating for good. Her blood would freeze and never move in her veins. Her eyes would never see again. Her body would start decomposing at the very moment… She would be nothing else than an empty vessel. Rotting meat.

_Will it hurt? What method are they going to use? Hanging? Decapitating? Burning?_

Arya desperately wished it was something quick and painless. She wanted it to be over, this waiting was too terrible. She had stomach pains so strong she was throwing up every minute or so, but it was only bile now. She was nauseatic and feverish, covered in ice cold sweat. They were bringing her food and water twice a day but Arya could not care less about it. The guard would kick her to force her to eat but Arya did not even look up. What difference would it make?

And then they came for her. She was so weak she dragged her legs behind. The hands of the guard were cold and greasy, clutching her wrists. They put her into a small room and sat her down on a stool. Two women undressed her, ripping her clothes with knives, exposing her naked body to the cold air. Her skin immediately covered with goosebumps, her hands and legs still cuffed. They put a white linen shirt on her then. A shroud for those sentenced to death.

She remembered her family. Was she going to join them? Was there any afterlife? Would she see them and Jaqen again? She longed to believe it, she wished there was something more than dark nothingness awaiting her…

Then the guard pulled her up again and took outside. Arya blinked wearily when the grey daylight hit her eyes. There was a small courtyard. Arya understood they were not going to execute her publicly. It certainly was only the Order affair.

Her heart was now beating frantically. Her blood throbbing in her temples. They dragged her to a big stone pillar in the middle of the courtyard and pulled her arms up, chaining her like that. Arya looked around. She saw the black-haired woman, the three hooded and masked figures of the Ruthraya and a couple of guards but nobody else. Still, even in her deepest terror she had this fractional speck of hope Jaqen would come in the end and save her. But there was nobody…

“Arya Stark, your death was requested from the Order and the Many Faced God demands your life,” the black-haired woman said. She was wearing long black robes, her hair moving lightly in the wind. There was nothing but emptiness in her eyes.

“I will carry his will,” she said and moved closer to her, holding a silver dagger in her hand. She pressed it against Arya’s face and drew a line. Arya felt the hot blood trickling down her cheek, the wound burning painfully.

“You are marked,” the woman said then. “But as you did not break any rule, you shall have the merciful death by poison.”

The woman grabbed her and opened her jaws. There was a small glass bottle in her hand. She poured the poison into her mouth. Arya felt it in her throat. It tasted like mere water. But at the moment she was forced to swallow it, she knew it was the end. Nobody was going to save her this time. A single tear drop was sliding down her cheek. She cast one last look at those watching her. But nobody appeared.

She started feeling numb. It was coming from her toes up her legs, the dreadful, agonizing feeling of losing the feeling in her flesh. She knew that right at the moment the individual parts of her body were dying. Her toes… her legs… And then the numbness spread into her stomach and up to her chest and she became dizzy. It creeped slowly into her head and she was aware her mind and brain were dying too. Her vision was darkening. She could still see the woman in front of her but then even she disappeared...

_Birds… and water…_

She heard a rivulet. Rushing water, like in early spring. Such a joyful sound. She blinked. There was a wide meadow. The fresh grass bright green, the breeze sweet with the smell of trees in blossom. Arya sat down to the soft grass and looked up at the blue sky. She knew they would come soon, all of them. She took a deep breath and smiled a little. She was going to wait for them.

There was nothing else then, only her slow heartbeat. Slower and slower. She heard it pound one more time. The last time.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Another take my dear readers! And only one week to the next GOT season, yay! Hopefully Arya's official path won't take such a turn. Read and comment, please. Thanks!


	75. Graveyard

When the evening fell on Braavos, Lotte the graveyard caretaker carefully put all his essential tools on a small cart and began his every night journey to the big graveyard behind the city. He did not have any friends, for nobody wanted to befriend a man who spent most of his time with the dead. But Lotte did not object. He knew the dead could hurt him. He knew those alive were much better at it.

When he arrived at the graveyard, it was already dark, only above the horizon on the west, the sky was in the shades of deep purple, fading into dark blue. The graveyard was surrounded with high wall made of big grey stones. The metal gate was closed and Lotte had to push hard to open it, looking over the place. It was completely still and silent. There was a section for the rich and very rich with big tombs with beautiful carvings but he rarely went there. The poor were dying much more often than those who could afford a marble tomb. The graveyard was vast and deserted. In the north distant corner of the graveyard, there was the part dedicated to the nameless. The poorest or the criminals found dead on the streets whom nobody cared to bury but the city caretakers cleaned their bodies in the end. It was a mass grave where those people were laid, so they were sharing the place of their final rest with complete strangers. Nobody would come mourn for them. Lotte was the only witness.

There was a small stone house nearby and four bodies should be waiting for him there, as the officer announced in the morning. Lotte pulled a big key out of his pocket and unlocked the chains on the house gate. He opened it and looked inside. The moon was shining so strongly that night he almost did not need to light up the torches on the walls. There were ten cots inside, five on each side and four of them were occupied by dead bodies. Lotte looked down at them. There were three men and one woman. Two of the men were clearly beggars, one had a missing arm and both were bearded and skinny. The third man was most probably in his forties, his throat cut open and the blood stains dried on his clothes. A robber, perhaps?

The woman was the strangest. She was very young, not older than twenty, maybe twenty two. She was slim and lean and had long dark brown hair. In the darkness around she seemed pale and was dressed in white linen robes. Lotte had seen several people dressed like that before and could only guess that the Faceless Order was involved somehow. She had no injury visible but a big, deep scar on her left cheek. He had seen such a wound before, too. He was convinced it was a mark of some kind. But he did not want to know more. The woman’s face was peaceful. She was not a woman he would call beautiful, she had hard features reminding slightly of some kind of an animal. A cat or a wolf… But in the sharp lines of her prominent cheekbones, her thin lips and big eyes with heavy eyebrows was an unusual and very distinct way of attractiveness. She was very attractive indeed. Like a wild, feral cat.

Lotte sighed. It was one of his few hobbies – to wonder about the dead people brought here. She was not exactly the person he usually saw in this section but what could he know…

He decided to bury the men first and then the woman and proceeded to the grave. It was layered and there was still enough space for at least three layers. He would always cover the bodies with soil and peat and a special white chalk dust to reduce the smell. And then he could put more bodies on the next layer and continue like this till the grave was full. When carrying the woman he noticed she was very light. He laid her down and kept watching her for a few more seconds before carefully throwing soil and peat on her, till she disappeared under it. He checked if the layer was in the same height and no part of the bodies was visible, then cleaned his tools, locked the door of the stone house and slowly walked back home. It was midnight and the sky was full of silver stars, the big round moon huge above his head, the wind soothingly cold and carrying the scent of the sea nearby.

For the whole time Lotte was burying the unfortunate four people and there was silence and peace around, he did not notice his every move had been watched very closely. There was a pair of eyes looking down at him from the wall, a figure dark as the shadows around, crouching there like a bird of prey. When the gate behind Lotte finally closed with a loud bang, the figure jumped down the wall inaudibly, holding a big sack in the hands. The figure lowered to the ground then and quickly started digging a hole. He found the body he was looking for and pulled it up, putting the body from the brown sack there instead, burying it. And then the figure vanished so abruptly as if it had never existed and the darkness behind the wall swallowed them both.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Huh, another chap. Please, let me know in the comments what you think. Thanks!


	76. Assassin

Nobody noticed the figure hidden in darkness, standing motionless and watching closely the nothingness in front of him. But he knew who was there. He knew whose quick breathing he was listening to. He knew whom the silent cry belonged to. The chains rattling when she moved, wrapped around her ankles. He closed his eyes slowly, seeing still the same darkness. He took a long, deep breath. He did not know it would be so hard to just stand and watch the play he had started and which could not have been stopped anymore.

He was standing there for hours, being an unseen and unheard companion. How easy it would be to descend into the darkness, take her hand and assure her, make the pain stop. But he could not risk it. Not after all he had achieved so far, after the deception he had managed to cast upon them. But the price was much higher than he had expected. Perhaps too high.

Finally he moved and slowly, silently walked away. He knew how to disappear from the temple, taking the quickest way out, where he merged into the Braavos people. He reached the sea and stood on the stone promenade, looking at the horizon. When he looked at it now, he could no longer feel the deeply rooted repulsion he had always had for sea. All he could now think of was her and how she loved it.

Again and again he went through his plan, looking for any weak spot. But he thought it through so many times, the plan must be successful, from the beginning in Lyggeron’s house to the end. And it had been – so far. Although he almost revealed himself at the Court, when Arya broke down believing he was dead.

His base spot for the time of the execution was planned perfectly. He knew the temple and still remembered every corridor and every chamber. There was a small room with a window directed right into the small yard. He would be able to see everything and interfere in case of utmost need. He went there at night and waited the longest hours in his life.

He could not really say what he felt when they brought her. For a short moment his hand went involuntarily to the hilt of his dagger, ready to throw it right into the woman’s chest. But he let his arm fall, his eyes assuring the bow and arrows were by his side, leaning against the wall. If anything suspicious should happen… He took the bow and arrows and aimed at the Nameless Priestess. He tried not to see Arya’s face but could not help it. The big eyes wide open with horror. Lips parted slightly, chest moving fast, her clutched, white-knuckled fists. And tears sliding down her pallid cheeks. He almost looked away, holding the bow tighter. He did not even realize his hand shook a little when Arya was forced to drink the poison. He saw her going numb, he saw the light of her eyes dying and something terrible broke inside him, pain worse than any other exploding in his chest, ice cold and piercing like millions of little knives.

They took her body and dragged her away. He kept an eye on them the whole time before the body was taken to the graveyard. Several times he had been so close to taking her already and trying to wake her up and only with the greatest efforts he managed not to interfere. He wanted them to believe there was nothing odd about her death and he needed the graveyard caretaker to report the burial went as expected.

His horse was ready, as well as supplies for the journey. When the caretaker left the graveyard, he jumped down the wall and quickly took her out of the grave. She was so light, almost like a child. He grasped her in his arms, forcing himself to believe she was still alive, despite the dead coldness of her skin, the dark circles under her eyes, the bloodless lips…

He quickly lowered her to the ground, making sure there was nobody around. He took a small bottle out of his robes and uncorked it. Gently he opened her mouth and poured the liquid down her throat. Desperately he watched her for any sign of life.

_Wake up, Arya… My love, wake up…_

He could hear something like a silent, shaky breath but he could not say if that was or was not a result of his imagination, his desperate wish to hear it, to see it…

He held her head in his hands, stroking her cheek, his eyes fixed on the still features of her face, while something inside him was screaming. He bowed and kissed her on the lips. They were cold like a stone.

Wake up…

But there was no point in waiting. They could be discovered any time. He lifted her and carried to his horse. And again they ran through the night. She was laying limply in his arms, her head leaned against his shoulder, her eyes closed and her chest not moving.

“Tywa annath, tasashe…” he whispered. _Hold on, my love._

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Yes, another up-date :-D I am sorry it took me so long but again - I am planning to finish it, even if it still can take a bit of time, but we are almost there. Hope you like the first whole chap from Jaqen's POV and please let me know in the comments! Thanks!!!


	77. Waking Up

It was like waking up from the longest and weirdest dream. Arya was so confused she had no idea where she was or what was happening. Her whole body was numb and she felt cold and weirdly immaterial. But there was one thing invariable and constant. The firm voice speaking to her in old languages she knew but yet couldn’t fully understand. But she knew that _voice_. She knew it and she knew she loved it. It was the most important sound in the world for her. Therefore she didn’t worry about anything much, for when the voice kept speaking to her, all was fine.

She fully woke up one night two weeks after being taken from the cemetery. She didn’t try to move and she didn’t believe she could, anyway. She just watched the stars in the sky like it was the first time in her life she saw them. She enjoyed the smell of night air and the sound of the sea nearby. She blinked several times and took a deep breath. The numbing coldness in her bones and muscles was slowly fading away. She listened to the sound of her heart beating which was filling her with energy and joy.

_My heart keeps beating… I am still here…_

“Vissya, tasashe.”

Arya shifted her eyes after the voice almost mechanically and saw Jaqen’s fire-illuminated face. She didn’t say a word but savoured the moment for as long as possible, looking him in the eyes. Each of the well-known feature of his face was new to her in a way and her look was gliding over his hair, his eyebrows, his distinctive cheekbones, his lips…

Arya had nothing to say for there _was_ nothing to say. She saw him watch her with such affection and relief her eyes suddenly welled up with tears. Jaqen moved closer to her and bowed above her, giving her a slow, tender kiss. He cupped her face into his warm hands and ran his fingers through her hair as if he was enjoying every inch of her.

“Jaqen…” she whispered, somewhere deep in her mind pleased by the sound of her own voice. She could see, she could breathe, she could speak… She was alive…

“I was afraid you would not wake up,” he said, his voice betraying him slightly and Arya felt her tears running down her cheeks. He slid his arms under her and lifted her up. Her head fell limply against his chest and Arya listened to the sound of his heart as if it was the most beautiful music she had ever heard.

He placed several kisses on her forehead and none of them spoke anymore. They stayed like that until the dawn was upon them and the seagulls started crossing the sky above, announcing a new day.

xxx

Lyggeron had never intended to actually help them. Jaqen saw through it quickly. His plan was turning them in to the Ruthraya and to the Order for his main goal had always been to protect himself and Annwyn. And Jaqen had decided to use that opportunity…

“I killed Lyggeron in the cave and took his face. But that was the easiest part of the plan because then I had to abduct _you_ and take you back to Braavos to be tried. There wasn’t a day or night I wouldn’t reproach myself for doing this to you.

I put my face on Lyggeron’s head when I needed them to believe he was me and I had to destroy all the other faces I had. I stole mine back from the burial place later. I knew the ways of the Order. I knew exactly how they process, I knew their ways of punishment but still… Could I _really_ be sure? I was always near you, even in the cells, keeping an eye on you and prepared to interfere…

The night before your execution I slipped a potion into your water and saw to you drinking it. I had tried that thousands times before and I was sure that it would work but… Letting them take you and force the poison down your throat and _not stopping_ them was the hardest thing I have ever done in my entire life… Several times I was so close to murdering them all…

And then I took you from the cemetery, giving you another potion that should wake you up. I knew it would take long but every moment you were so close to death had been agony.”

Arya was leaning against the tree trunk in a small grove. It had been three days since she had woken up and Jaqen had finally told her the truth. He was sitting opposite to her with the fire between them, the flickering light of flames dancing over his face. He lifted his eyes then and looked at her.

“Could you ever forgive me?” he said. “There isn’t a moment I wouldn’t regret it. All I wanted was to set you free.”

Arya shook her head slowly.

“You know me. You are the only person who knows me and you can see right through me. Therefore you must know I would go for such a plan without hesitating _a moment_.”

Jaqen gave a small smirk.

“That was a fact I took into consideration, yes. But it didn’t make it any easier.”

“Well, I’m not saying I enjoyed it,” Arya said. “It was the worst time in my life.”

“I know,” Jaqen said quietly. “I am sorry, tasashe.”

Arya took a deep breath and watched the fire for a while. She found it almost metaphorical as life and energy was slowly seeping back into her veins and body – just as the flames were making it warm. The memory of her execution and all the things prior that seemed less and less defined.

“But I’ll forget it, eventually,” she said. “I don’t think forgetting will be that hard. And it _was_ worth it.”

She met his look.

“We are free.”

“Yes,” Jaqen said. Arya tilted her head on side.

“But that means you can still shift faces, can’t you?”

“I can – in a way,” Jaqen said. “There is a special way of keeping different faces on you, under this…”

He waved his hand over his face.

“Before I killed him, Lyggeron had told me how to undo that. I had to do it to prove myself to the Order. Now there is only one face I can take off. If there isn’t another at hand to use, I would truly be faceless. I lost the ability to possess them and there isn’t any other way how to keep them with you. You can’t exactly carry them in your pockets.”

Arya took some time to proceed all he said and smiled then.

“That doesn’t matter. This is _your_ face. This has always been _you_ for me.”

Jaqen’s expression reflected gratitude and relief.

“This is who I am by your side,” he said. Arya lifted herself up a bit.

“Well, in fact you really don’t need any different self because I’ll _always_ be by your side. So say bye to your solitary rambles.”

Jaqen snorted with amusement.

“You really are feeling better, aren’t you?”

“Much, much better,” Arya said and gave him a sincere smile. Jaqen got up and crouched in front of her, cupping her head in his hands again, as he had done so many times within the last couple of days, almost like making sure she was real.

“Itte dorlath ighet evin-til,” he whispered, his fingers gently stroking her face. “Nanichi.”

_Don’t ever leave me again, my love._

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Ha, an update!!! Yes, I'm really planning to finish this. There will be one more chapter - the last. Thanks for reading. Hope you liked and let me know!


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